Isabeau and the Quest of Erebor
by Writ4Fun
Summary: Adventure is the only thing I live for anymore. I am one of the surviving fallen people of Arda on a quest to help a company of dwarves slay a dragon, which probably means we are all going to die by burning. A psychotic albino Orc chieftain hunts our leader, a growing darkness plagues the land, and everything in our path wants to imprison us or devour us... exciting!
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Hello. This is my first story and first writing attempt in quite some time. I have put everything through Word for spell check and grammar check, but I am sure horrible catastrophes of grammar abound. I am influence by several works in the imagining of my OC, so I most certainly do not lay claim to anything you recognize in dialogue or plot. I would love reviews. Next chapter should be out before the weekend is done. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Tolkien's Auxiliary work, Watership Down, Avatar the Last Airbender, or Peter Pan. I am not making money off this. I play with the ideas, characters, and plots found in those works. _

_Edit Note: The errors got to me. The chapter should now successfully avoid unforgiveable grammar issues. Content has changed slightly._

_Later chapters will earn the M rating, but for now the rating is much lower (K+)_

_**Chapter One**_

Second Age of the Sun…

"Creation is the will of _Eru_. _Eru_ begot the _Ainur_ to sing the _ainulindale_ to give shape to the fate of creation. _Eru_ begot _Ea_, 'the World and All That Is', and placed _Ea_ within the Void."

"Why?"

"Why what Isabeau?"

"Why did _Eru_ do that?"

"Why did _Eru_ create the Ainur or why did _Eru_ create _Ea_? Or do you wish to know both?"

"Mm … I don't know."

"It is alright child. Let me see … _Eru_ does what _Eru_ does because _Eru_ is _Eru_. Stop frowning at me, you silly goose! That is the answer."

"No it's not."

"Well why do you think _Eru_ wills?"

"Umm … I don't know."

"Tell me. There is no need to feel shy Isabeau."

"_Eru_ was sad."

"Why was _Eru_ sad?"

"Cause… because _Eru_ didn't have a mommy."

"I think you're right, not having a mother is very sad."

"Cause, cause you could fall down and, and get hurt!"

"And mothers help with hurts."

"Yes."

"Fair enough. Maybe _Eru_ was sad and _Eru_ willed creation so children could have mothers and fathers. Did _Eru_ have any children?"

"Umm… yes?"

"Yes. The first children of _Eru_ are the Elves. Do you know what an Elf is?"

"Uncle, Uncle Maedhros is an Elf!"

"That is correct. The second children of _Eru_ are Men. You have never seen such creatures, for Men live below us on Arda."

"Why?"

"Men live on Arda, because that is where their families are."

"Oh."

"The next children of _Eru_ are the accepted children, Dwarrows. Aule, one of the Ainur who came to Arda, created them in secret. _Eru_ did not intend for them to be… You are frowning again Isabeau. Do you understand? Be honest now."

"I don't know."

"Well think about your brothers and sisters. You are all children of your father and me except –"

"- except Fiphil! He had another daddy, but you and Daddy love him very much because Fiphil is my brother and families love each other. And now Daddy is Fiphil's daddy too."

"Yes. Fiphil has a different father from your own, but we all love him just the same. No matter what."

"No matter what."

"Well the Dwarrows had a different daddy, but they are still family to _Eru_. Therefore, _Eru_ loved them and willed them to be. _Eru_ did this because families love each other, no matter what."

"No matter what."

"Do you know who the last children of _Eru_ are?"

"Me!"

"And what are you Isabeau?"

"Avia!"

"The last children of _Eru_ are the Avia, the secret children. Do you remember the story of _El-ahrairah_'s birth? We will speak it together… When the first dwarf baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went flying about, and that was the beginning of _El-ahrairah_ and the Avia."

"I'm a laugh?"

"No my silly goose, you are all the wonderful things in life. Laughs and giggles and tricks and sweets and messes and starlight and gentle breezes and…"

"Mommy that tickles!"

"And good lucks and marshmallows on the fire and hugs and kisses!"

"Hehe! Do it again!"

"When we are finished with the lesson… Oh! We are supposed to be dressing for supper. Come on Isabeau we have to hurry."

"But Mister Bubbles isn't done!"

"Well do you think Mister Bubbles can finish his tea while I pack up?"

"Umm… okay. He's done now."

"Thank you darling. Grab my hand, we have to walk fast."

* * *

Third Age of the Sun…

He was most absolutely, positively, undeniably late. I likened my voice and mannerisms to his, "Meet us atop the third hill East from Bree in two days hence. I shall lead them to you, so be on time Isabeau. You cannot dilly-dally the way you do, stop frowning at me. I recall your tardiness at the Fort more vividly than you do, young lady. You should be ready and waiting at nine in the morning on the hilltop. We will be along shortly." Here I was and nowhere was Gandalf or his dwarf company. Pacing relentlessly did nothing to speed the slow crawl of eternity, so I forced myself into practicing meditation. Meditation would productively occupy my thoughts, though I found imitating the frequently grumpy wizard far more entertaining than contemplating _Tao_. Honestly, he gave me all that grief only to keep me waiting –the nerve of some wizards.

Deep breaths… clear the mind… if thoughts occur, simply acknowledge them, and let them go... breathe… the sun is warm… birds are chipper today… the sky is perfect for loop-de-loops… clear mind… clear mind… I should really practice some loop-de-loops… this rock is digging into my…

With a deep exasperated sigh, I admitted defeat and unfolded my legs to stand and stretch. Mom said _El-ahrairah_ could meditate for ten years under a tree, with all of Arda clamoring for his attention. _El-ahrairah_ could also wreak havoc capable of destroying Arda thrice over, so praise _Eru _he was dedicated enough to sit still for decades. I checked my pack, yes still on the ground next to the rock, on top of the third hilltop East of Bree. I picked up my staff to twirl as I stared up at the serene sky above. The staff snapped to attention in my hands. Oh sweet _Eru_, what if I had the wrong hill! Hills filled the valley; it would be irresponsible not to double-check my location. Flying would be a more effective method of travel, which seemed an excellent justification for brea… bending Gandalf's no-flying decree.

"I'll stay below the tree tops," I muttered as I collected my pack. "Bree needs rumor of a crazy giant orange bird fueling gossip, like a bird needs shaving cream," I double-checked that my hair remained securely braided around my head. Hair checked; pack secured, staff ready, deep breath… I griped the staff, the carvings pressed into my palms, on my exhale I raised off the ground. The breeze picked up beneath me expeditiously until I mingled with the tree top creatures. "Mm… I should've done this sooner," I floated for a bit in the happy sunshine. Eyes closed, face turned upwards. All is peace and stillness. _Eru_ and _El-ahrairah _bless wide-open spaces.

A merry mother robin in her nest captured my attention. "Look at that blue! You must be extremely pleased with yourself mother robin," I observed from a safe distance. A robin beak to the face really smarts! The mother robin primped her feathers. "Hmm… Now are you alone in your eggs' vibrancy or do all the robins here all produce similar clutches…" I spun to spot more nests, "Gondorian robin eggs are spotted, but your eggs aren't… that deserves a small investigation… I have time." The next fifteen robin nests yielded eggs of varying spottiness, but nothing to help support my notion of a reduced regional spotting. That first robin was just a lucky mother robin. Alternatively, it occurred to me that perhaps my perceptions erred. "I'll just need to check her eggs again," I muttered.

"I assure you our fifteenth member is around here somewhere," Gandalf's voice cut through the trees, "She may have the wrong hill top." Argh, I could beat myself over the head. This cannot possibly count as me being late. I tried to land before the party detected me. One cannot go back to alter actions, just have to soldier on from here. I fixed my veil from its highly informal place around my neck to cover my hair and ears. At the very least, I would appear the proper Avia wind walker.

"I learn now that not only do you suggest that I bring a woman on this quest, but a woman who cannot follow directions," annoyance saturated this deep novel timbre. I cleared the trees to see that the speaker was a lordly dwarf dressed in expensive garb riding a chestnut West Nag. Behind him were more dwarves on West Nags, yet few were dressed as finely as the first. Gandalf caught my gaze and was clearly not surprised with present events. The annoyed dwarf followed Gandalf's eye-line to me.

"Thorin, may I present Lady Isabeau and the last member of this company," Gandalf dismounted his horse to introduce me. Gandalf beckoned me closer, "Isabeau this is Thorin Oakenshield, leader of this company." Thorin was clearly not pleased to meet me, but he was well bred enough to dismount. I bowed with the bravura known to my people, from the waist with palms meeting and eyes to Thorin's face.

He nodded politely back to me, however he spoke past me to Gandalf, "I have trusted you for the fourteenth member of this company. Why do you wish I allow this girl-child to risk life and limb in this quest?"

A child! Thorin Oakenshield had a finger width on me in terms of height and a good… number of pounds on me in terms of weight, but I would swallow my tongue before I let him make me feel small. Despite my desire to display neutrality, I must have stiffened slightly, for Gandalf placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Isabeau is no child, Thorin. She is my friend for many years now. Her healing knowledge and skill are second to no one and the ability borne to her people will prove most useful against a dragon."

Thorin turned his blue-green-gray eyes to me and looked me over with a tactical appraisal. "You do not have the build of a seasoned warrior," Thorin waited expectedly.

"I have served in many battles, both in the healer's tent and on the field. Scouting and tactics are within the reach of my ability. My people value cunning and dexterity over immense strength," I met his eyes to show him the truth in my words. A flicker of recognition flashed in those blue-green-gray orbs.

"You are an Easterling?"

Deep breath in… "I am Avia, one of the fallen people," I could not keep the old sorrow out of my voice.

Thorin schooled his features to keep his reaction private. Clearly, Thorin embraced the stoic secrecy of the Dwarrows. I predicted his thoughts none-the-less, my race and relationship to Gandalf intrigued Thorin, but he would not believe me anything more than a female shaped burden until I could prove myself. Short of trying to beat him in a duel, which I would most certainly lose given the shear musculature of Thorin's very seasoned stature, I would just have to hope that intrigue was enough to get the job.

Thorin gestured to Gandalf and me that he would need a moment. I bowed again, in accordance with Avia rules of decorum. He moved away to enter into a heated debate with two other dismounted dwarves, an elderly dwarf with a kind face and a towering dwarf with tattoos and a sneer. Gandalf took the opportunity to rub in the manner in which this meeting began.

"All you had to do was wait Isabeau," Gandalf stooped slightly to bring himself closer to my height.

"You all were late. I was merely side-tracked in my search for you," Gandalf gave me a look of affectionate disbelief as he plucked a piece of leaf out from under my veil.

"Naturally. I will not deny that assembling the company went so very smoothly in my mind," Gandalf sighed and fingered his smoking pipe stuck under his belt.

"Take care to picture the company you're in. Enemies love a large target and, in comparison to everyone here, you are clearly that," I gave Gandalf a concerned once over, "You might as well have painted a target round your neck."

"Yes Isabeau. Wearing a cheery orange robe was clearly the thing to do instead," Gandalf plucked at the sleeve of my plain traveling _kameez_. I felt my face heat.

"A _kameez _and _churidar _are perfectly acceptable dress for a," I began.

"Perpetually late wind walker?" This wizard was entirely too amused with his tit-for-tat.

I shook my head and studied the other members of the company. They were all curious over the cause for delay, with many members whispering to each other and gesturing in my direction. Most seemed middle aged for dwarf kind, although there were some younger faces mixed in.

The restlessness of the party motivated the three debating dwarves to reach a consensus. Thorin and the giant dwarf moved back to their ponies, while the kind elderly dwarf moved forward to me.

"Allow me to introduce myself and welcome you to the company Lady Isabeau," he bowed his head slightly, "Balin at your service."

I returned his greeting and bowed. Balin explained the company contract and produced a small wooden box for me to sign on. The contract was copasetic, so I made my mark and returned it.

With that sorted, I mounted a pleasantly natured bay colored West Nag and was off on a grand adventure.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Hello. This is my first story and first writing attempt in quite some time. I have put everything through Word for spell check and grammar check, but I am sure horrible catastrophes of grammar abound. I am influence by several works in the imagining of my OC, so I most certainly do not lay claim to anything you recognize in dialogue or plot. I would love reviews. _

_Thanks to __** .ness**__ for making my story a favorite. _

_Thanks to __**flame-dragon2**__ and __**Hakoiri**__ for following._

_I hope I can entertain you all._

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Tolkien's Auxiliary work, Watership Down, Avatar the Last Airbender, or Peter Pan. I am not making money off this. I play with the ideas, characters, and plots found in those works. _

_Edit Note: The errors got to me. The chapter should now avoid unforgiveable grammar issues. _

_Later chapters will earn the M rating, but for now the rating is much lower (K+)_

**Chapter Two**

Second Age of the Sun…

"Hyzenthlay!"

"My lady, little lady Isabeau."

"Clover? My other children?"

"She awaits you in your chambers my lady. Your other children are readying themselves."

"Thank _Eru_ for small blessings. Take Isabeau and prepare her for dinner. The blue dress with the matching ribbons."

"Yes my lady. Wave to your mother little lady. Very good. Did you have a nice tea in the garden with your mother Isabeau?"

"Yes, Mister Bubbles drank and ate everything."

"Well that wasn't gentle of him."

"He was thinking with his tummy."

"Thinking with his tummy? That might be acceptable for chubby owls, but a lady doesn't think with her tummy."

"No…"

"Into your room with you. Now take off that dress and get in the tub, and don't wet your head!"

"Can Mister Bubbles have a bath too?"

"Lady Isabeau he's filthy! Give him here; I will need to wash him in a special bath. Go go! Wash up and I'll set your lovely clothes out."

"Why do I have to wear that?"

"Because it's a beautiful dress your father bought for you."

"It's itchy."

"Then you are the only person in all of creation to find a sky-silk dress itchy young lady… If you keep your face like that_, El-ahrairah_ is going to freeze it that way."

"The shoes pinch."

"I'll check them when you dress. You might be big enough for one of your sisters' hand-me-downs. Are you clean yet? Did you wash your face? Okay come on out and I will dry you off. We want you to look your best for the Queen, your aunt Lady Sidonie, and her family."

"… Granny's here?"

"I just said she'd be. It is a great honor to host for the Queen. Come Lady Isabeau, out of that tub."

"I don't feel good Hyzenthlay."

"Oh dear, let me feel your head. You do not feel warm. What's wrong?"

"My tummy hurts and…"

"Lady Isabeau, you stop that fake coughing this instant! _Eru_ and _El-ahrairah_ forbid you getting such a sickness. Never ever, pretend that! You'll send your parents and me to an early grave with worry."

"…I…I'm sorry Hyzenthlay…"

"Sh sh it's alright little goose. Come here. There we go, Hyzenthlay will get you all dried off. Sh sh. Let us sit on the bed for a moment. Stay bundled up. There is a good girl. Now you be honest with me Lady Isabeau. Does your tummy hurt?"

"Yes… no… I don't know."

"Does it feel like a fall down hurt?"

"No."

"Does it feel like rumblings and flutterings? Like a baby bird's flapping around in there."

"Maybe."

"Ah… Are you nervous about dinner with the Queen, your aunt, and her family?"

"I don't know. I … I don't want to go to dinner Hyzenthlay."

"I know little lady. Can you keep a secret? All right… I don't want to go to dinner either, but we both know what's expected of us –"

"But I don't feel good."

"… Do you remember the first story of _El-ahrairah_?"

"When the first dwarf baby laughed –"

"-Yes, little goose, that one. Do you know what happened next?"

"The dwarf mommy and daddy were scared."

"That's right. However, did you know that _El-ahrairah_ was scared too? That Dwarf daddy, Durin, grabbed _El-ahrairah_ by his ear, shook him three times, and shouted something fierce."

"… Daddy always shouts when Granny's here."

"There _El-ahrairah_ was, dangling by Durin's mighty grasp. _El-ahrairah_ grew afraid in the face of such a terrible and fearsome temper. The first Avia scattered to the four corners of the room and hid, for they were scared too. Do you know what _El-ahrairah_ did then? Speak up dear, you know this…"

"… He was very brave."

"That's right. _El-ahrairah_ summoned up his considerable courage and faced his fear. And do you know what happened?"

"The dwarf daddy let him go?"

"After some very fast talking, yes he did. That is because courage makes way for cunning, so without _El-ahrairah_'s brilliant courage none of us Avia would be here today. What do you think about that?"

"Can I sit with Mommy and Daddy?"

"No. The Queen and Lady Sidonie asked that you dine with your cousins at another table. You have not talked to them since last summer. Isabeau, do you think you can be brave like El-ahrairah?"

"Yes…"

"Into your clothes then and I'll need pins for your hair…"

* * *

Third Age of the Sun…

Not an hour into the journey, I concluded that ponies are not sensible creatures. No amount of straining or tugging persuaded my pony to brake from the procession. Gorgeous waterfalls, flowers blooming in fantastic bursts of color, soft hillsides of downy grass, wildlife scampering through the brush, summer was passing and my pony could not be bothered to ride near any of it. My fuzzy pony paid heed to nothing save to follow the horse butt in front of her nose. What sense was there in that? She was a simply boring creature… adorable but boring.

My pony was not the only one dedicated to linear travel. Riding in a column was the only thing anyone seemed to want to do today. Thorin lead the party. Gandalf rode near the rear. I wound up in the middle of the party, with a meticulously manicured dwarf as my column partner. He introduced himself as Dori and proved ready to exchange small pleasantries. It did not take long for his obsessive nature to announce itself. Dori could not stop fussing at the much younger dwarf riding immediately in front of him.

"Ori! Keep your heels down," Dori leaned forward in his saddle and did not return to his saddle until Ori corrected his riding stance. If the redness climbing up Ori's neck was any indication, Ori did not enjoying the constant monitoring. "Going to get blisters at this rate… should've taken better care of his training… never know when the pony will buck and then he'll be flat on his back…" Dori grumbled under his breath. He was every doting big brother and guardian I ever had all rolled into one. He was Hyzenthlay with a beard. I giggled at the thought of him in her maid's dress and immediately regretted it. Dori clamped his mouth shut and re-adjusted himself to sit taller. Fifteen minutes in and I had given insult to a company member. I might really be mucking this up.

"My apologies Master dwarf. Your care just reminded me of a wonderful childhood guardian. I didn't mean to give offense," I hoped an apology would smooth things over. He glanced my way, but did not speak. I hurriedly continued, "You are correct of course, an improper riding position would certainly not save a rider from a bucking stead. Isn't it all right to relax though, from time to time, especially during a long ride?"

Dori harrumphed and shook his head. I resigned myself to a silent ride for the rest of the day, and twice as many squats during my next training session as punishment, but Dori spoke,

"That's what people think, but long rides are precisely when one should be most conscious of proper form. There are more chances for the horse to spook, more opportunities for a thrown shoe, higher probability for hidden rabbit holes, and the like. I've always said to expect the worst, that way you'll be prepared and come out all right." Dori nodded at his own words. He approved of his own pragmatism.

"Oh. That is very sensible," if one liked eternally expecting unfortunate events to occur, "but how could these ponies be prone to such sudden reactions? All they want to do is follow the one in front and stay ahead of the one behind."

Dori let out a small laugh, "Begging your pardon my Lady, but your own pony should be rewarded for resisting such restlessness in its rider. A less sensible animal would've let you wander off into the wilds." I scoffed and shook my head.

"Sensible animal indeed! A proper pony ought to show interest in its surroundings. The terrain is manageable and I would have returned just fine. I do not see why we should travel like a caravan. Is it a Dwarven preference?" Dori's features twisted slightly in confusion.

"No, I believe it's a preference to keep everything and everyone organized. The way will not always allow for wanderings, so we ride in columns to avoid delays," Dori fingered the jewelry in his beard. "Have you ever traveled across country Lady?"

I nodded, "Many times Mister Dori, never with such dull steads though. It is as if life sapped away all pony nature from her. _El-ahrairah _witnesses," I tossed my head back to indicate the forest behind us," not a few yards back was a clover patch and she didn't even slow down to sniff, Oh!" Apparently, my fluffy pony had had enough and hopped over a fallen branch on the path. I managed to remain in my saddle and keep hold of my staff, although I came very close to bumping my head with it.

Dori, Ori, Ori's column partner, and the dwarves behind us chuckled at my flustered incoordination. They spoke united, "Keep your heels down!"

Dori's eyes crinkled with amusement, "You were saying Lady?"

Feeling anything but the paragon of grace, I bowed my head and said, "I see your point about expecting the worst." This prompted another chuckle from Dori. After that, Dori and I participated in polite conversation, in which I discovered we shared a common interest in all things cultured.

It was not until the sun drooped heavily in the sky that Thorin signaled to the company to make camp. The site was a hilltop overlooking the valley, the foot of the mountains still lay before us. It was all together not a bad spot. Fresh water was just down the hill; the elevation and tree coverage made the camp defendable.

Even with my renewed respect for my pony, the call to dismount instilled a refreshing relief in me. I did not seem to be the only grateful person to dismount; most of the company seemed unused to riding all day. Most stretched and creaked with unhappy joints. Ponies and horses were fine for a day's travel I suppose, but flying never left raw flesh in tender places. Not much to be done about it though, I would cause myself more grief than comfort flying about all day in my present company. Unfortunately, I needed a private moment to work out my kinks, the thought of doing my stretches in front of so many males seemed highly improper. The only members who moved unaffected were Thorin, the tall tattooed dwarf, Balin, a dark-haired young dwarf, a fair-haired young dwarf, and Gandalf.

"Fili. Kili. Care for the ponies," Thorin spoke with the voice of one who expected immediate obedience. Sure enough, the young dark-haired and fair-haired dwarves sprang into action. Both moved from dwarf to dwarf to gather the reins and assist in any unpacking. The fair-haired one gently accepted my pony's rein. I politely bowed to him to show gratitude, he met my gaze with his rich blue eyes. The silver clasps hanging off the end of his mustache jingled slightly when he smirked at me. He bowed his head slightly. He … I missed whether he was Fili or Kili … moved on briskly to collect more ponies.

It was time to make myself useful… after surveying the others I was at a loss for where to start. I kept my pack and staff with me. It would be bothersome to the others if I placed them in the wrong spot. The dwarves moved with purpose, they all had jobs to do. Thorin, the tall tattooed dwarf, Balin, and Gandalf gathered at one end of camp to speak amongst themselves. They constituted the inner circle of this party, which meant I would not be welcome in their conversation until they invited me. Dori dismounted and went to check on Ori, all the while muttering about improperly packed materials on Ori's pony. An incredibly wide dwarf bustled amongst cooking supplies and materials in the middle of camp. He was a curious person who snuck small bites of food every few seconds. Two dwarves, one with thick coppery red hair and the other with equally thick salt n' pepper hair, constructed the cooking fire near the enormous chef. That left four persons, beside me, with nothing to do. One with the hair coloring of a skunk sat and stared into the growing cooking fire and … merciful _Eru_, he had metal embedded plain as the day in his forehead! Two dwarves stood off to the side of camp smoking pipes, one with triangularly groomed hair, and the other with an extremely comfortable looking hat. Both surveyed the bustle of making camp and… now they surveyed me. Best find something to do then. The last person in camp acted as lost as I felt. He was a tiny thing, shorter than I am by a hand's width, with a lovely simple country style of dress. He moved his large feet, covered with thick curly hair, ceaselessly as he anxiously shuffled about.

This person was an unknown creature to me. I tried not to stare, but he was so curious. Avia were characteristically slight of frame, but he was so small I could probably toss him a good few yards. Why did he not wear shoes? Did the lacings pull on his feet hair? Was there a cultural significance to feet hair like the cultural significance in Avia veiling or Dwarven beards? Oh dear. The little man registered my study of him. He turned from me and settled against a tree. Now I felt rude for gawking at him.

A loud clanging brought my attention back to the fa… large cook. He set the big cooking pot down on a rock by accident, but it looked no worse for wear. I eyed the ingredients he sorted on a clean cooking rag and surmised a stew would be dinner. That required water; I could fetch that! I made my way over to him.

"Excuse me sir. I could fetch the cooking water for you," I barely finished my offer when the cook thrust the cooking pot at me.

"Fill it two-thirds full and return to me," the cook fussed with the ingredients and did not give me a second look. Well I found a job. I swiftly found an out of the way place to set my pack down within the light of the cooking fire. I grabbed the cooking pot, kept my staff in hand, and went off in search of the fresh water. A few of my well-placed conjured breezes provided my heading, down the north side of the hill and slightly off to the west. The hill looked a bit steep on this side; I made a mental note to take a longer way round with the filled cooking pot. As easy as it was to carry now, it would be a struggle to manage when filled, even without a steep slope to navigate.

I started to make my way downhill when a voice called out to me.

"Oye lass! Woops, I mean Lady," it was the dwarf with the comfortable hat. He was dressed in furs and knitwear and possessed an obvious spark of life. Despite my intention to keep my features politely neutral, I found a smile as he caught up to me.

"Bofur at your service," the dwarf whipped off his hat and bowed with a flourish.

I set the pot down and bowed respectfully back to him, "Isabeau at yours." My reaction must have pleased him, for his dark brown eyes twinkled as he fixed his hat back on his head.

"Pardon me Lady, but I saw my brother order you about and thought to aid you is all. I can take that if you'd like," Bofur gestured for the cooking pot.

"There's no need to aid me now, but I wouldn't turn down help bringing the filled pot back to camp," I picked up the pot. It was to me to complete the task I asked for, but I would not turn down help freely offered.

"Then I shall do my best to escort you thusly," Bofur moved alongside me and we carefully made our way down. When the ground became level once more, Bofur looked around to locate our destination.

"Oh it's this way Mister Bofur," I pointed westward.

"How'd you know that? Did you see it on the way in Lady?" Bofur's gaze suddenly grew playfully focused on me, as if he expected I scryed for the water using three chicken bones and fox hair.

"It sounds and smells like water this way," I leaned close and whispered to him, as if I said I scryed for it using four chicken bones and horse hair.

"Ah, yes. Lead on then Lady," we walked on.

"You know, aside from never expecting to find myself on a quest to slay a dragon, I never expected to go on a quest to slay a dragon with a sweet lass like yourself," Bofur did not ponder the appropriateness of his comments when talking to a female he just met. His frankness was wonderfully amusing.

"Oh? Why is that Mister Bofur?"

"Cause lassies have too much sense to go on a quest to slay a dragon in the first place," we reached a swiftly moving brook. Bofur bent down to test the brook water, whatever he found pleased him, and he motioned for the cooking pot.

"I suppose that leaves two truths for me Mister Bofur," I helped him steady the pot as it filled.

"What's that lass?"

"Either I have no sense or I'm a lad." Bofur and I worked together to bring the filled pot out of the brook.

"Well I have to say laddie," Bofur paused to catch my eye and smiled crookedly, "you're suffering from a wonderful affliction."

I should not have laughed, but I could not help it. Bofur was charming. Each of us held on to the pot's handle, so we could carry it between us. I steered the conversation back towards the curious companions of the company. "You mentioned the cook is your brother?"

"Bless me; I don't think you were introduced to everyone, meeting us on the road like you did. The cook is my brother, Bombur. The fellow with the far-away eyes and orc axe in his skull is my cousin Bifur. I will introduce you to the other lads once we are back in camp. Wouldn't want you to think we dwarves are entirely without social graces," Bofur continued with a delightful story of the meeting in Bag End. The curious hairy-footed person was a Mister Bilbo Baggins, who lived at Bag End. I could not hold back my amusement at the described antics of the dwarves and the near panic of Mister Bilbo over the entire ordeal.

In no time at all Bofur and I completed our task by returning the filled pot to Bombur, who immediately started dinner. Everyone settled down around the campfire. They smoked, tended to their equipment, and talked amongst themselves. The sun set in the west, casting rays of warm reds and oranges across the clouds. The meeting of the "inner circle" was on going. I checked that my head covering was still in place, before collecting my pack and taking an empty space in the circle near the campfire. I knelt down on a patch of soft earth in the Avia way - feet, and heels tucked underneath me. I should have made excuses to go perform my evening exercises and prayer, but I wanted to spend the first night among the dwarves getting to know my fellow adventurers.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Hello. This is my first story and first writing attempt in quite some time. I have put everything through Word for spell and grammar check, but I am sure horrible catastrophes of grammar abound. Several works influenced the imagining of my OC, so I most certainly do not lay claim to anything you recognize in dialogue or plot. I would love reviews. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Tolkien's Auxiliary work, Watership Down, Avatar the Last Airbender, or Peter Pan. I am not making money off this. I play with the ideas, characters, and plots found in those works. _

_Later chapters will earn the M rating, but for now the rating is much lower (T) for childhood nastiness. _

**Chapter Three**

"Remember to sit up straight."

"Yes Hyzenthlay."

"And remember to keep your hands in your lap when you're not eating."

"Yes Hyzenthlay."

"And how many times should you chew your food before swallowing?"

"Thirty times."

"Good girl. Oh, look at you little lady! You look so pretty in your blue gown."

"Hyzenthlay, will Mister Bubbles be done with his bath after dinner?"

"_El-ahrairah _witness, I promise that he'll be waiting for you in your bed by the time you finish dinner. Are you ready little lady?"

"… Yes."

"You are to sit at the cousins' table. Go on in then and join your family."

* * *

(At the cousins' table…)

"The servants are inept here. More wine!"

"They only have one garden, can you believe that Marne?"

"Why would they have more than one? This whole house is in shambles."

"Why Isabeau your brand new shoes are all scuffed up."

"They were sissy Sophia's –"

"_El-ahrairah _witness, hand-me-down shoes!"

"Oh come now Ash, I'm sure Isabeau here is very proud of her … fashion choice."

"Pass the salt Isabeau."

"Oh… here."

"Not that way, I wanted it Isabeau. Be polite."

"Okay."

"Are you deaf Isabeau? Somerhal asked for it first. Pass it to him."

"Isabeau, now you know you should pass it to Fillion. He is closer. Well? Be quick about it!"

"That's right, hand it over."

"O…okay."

"You really are slow aren't you? Give. Me. The. Salt Isabeau!"

"But, Marne and Fillion said –"

"I don't want the salt anymore. You really are disappointing."

"Isabeau. I do not mean to sound critical, but you look like a cow when you chew."

"Bored now."

"You chew chew chew, just like a pudgy land animal. Did your mother teach you to do that?

"I said I'm bored Ash!"

"_Eru _preserve us, sister Marne is bored."

"Shut it Fillion."

"We should play a game then."

"I liked the game we were playing…"

"What game shall we play?"

"Can we play twenty questions?"

"No Isabeau, that's a horribly dull game for dull people."

"Are you dull Isabeau?"

"No."

"Then you don't want to play twenty questions, do you?"

"… No."

"I bet Isabeau wants to play a fun game. She wants to play a game for big kids, right?"

"… What kind of game?"

"Pass the candles Fillion. It is a very simple game, so you will be able to understand it. Scoot closer to me. There you go! Now the rules are two players hold their hand over the candles and try to say the whole evening prayer before taking their hand away. If you take your hand away to soon, you are a bad person. You understand the rules?"

"I don't want to play."

"Oh, but you'd be so impressive if you won Isabeau!"

"Yes you would. It would be so very brave of you."

"Maybe you're too little to play."

"I guess you can't play a big kid game. You're just a baby after all."

"I'm not a baby!"

"Then you'll do it?"

"… Okay."

"Excellent. Now you start the evening prayer and I'll put your hand in position over the candles."

"Long ago, _Eru _made the world. He made all the stars and the world lived among the stars –"

"Very good Isabeau!"

"Put her hand closer."

"_Eru_ made all the animals and birds and, ow!"

"Don't stop or you're a bad person."

"_Eru_ made all the, OW! Stop!"

"Somerhal is trying to help you win."

"STOP!"

"Isabeau! Darling what's wro- Oh look at your fingers! Sh sh sweetheart don't cry."

"She just reached for the candle, Lady Marie."

"Somerhal tried to stop her."

"Sh sh it's okay Isabeau. What were you doing touching the candles?"

"I… I wa…. playing a game…"

"Isabeau! You know better than to touch fire. Hyzenthlay! Let mommy see your fingers Isabeau. Oh, you are just a little singed; a little aloe and kiss will make it all better. Hyzenthlay!"

"I'm here my lady."

"Please take Isabeau to her room and see to her fingers, I'll be there shortly."

* * *

(After dinner…)

"There we are, all done. You be mindful of the bandage, I do not want you to fiddle with it. You wait right here and I'll go get your nightgown."

"…"

"What a poor end to your day, little lady. Do not worry your head over it. Tonight _El-ahrairah _will bless you with happy dreams and tomorrow morning I will see the cook makes your blueberry pancakes. Won't that be lovely? Which nightgown would you like to wear to bed, how about this pink one?"

"…"

"The green one?"

"…"

"The white one then. You like the white one, yes. It is very soft, not itchy in the slightest. Stand up, little lady, be careful of your hand. Hands up. Okay. Hands down. Step out of your new shoes and I will tuck you in. See? Here is Mister Bubbles, bright and clean from his bath. You know he put up quite a fight during his bath."

"…he did?"

"Yes. Told me that owls were meant to be dirty, because they go on so many adventures. He told me you like to go adventuring too. Is that right?"

"… yes."

"You and Mister Bubbles will have to think up what adventures you want to go on in the morning. I'll be right back with your brush."

"…"

"Time to braid your hai- Oh! How did Mister Bubbles end up in the corner? Did you put him in the corner Lady Isabeau? Aren't you going to answer me?"

"…"

"Fine. Have it your way then."

"…"

"There. You are ready for bed. I think it is very rude that you threw Mister Bubbles on the floor. You should not treat your friends that way."

"…"

"Good night Lady Isabeau. Your parents should be here soon."

"…"

"_Eru _give me patience."

(Door closes)

"No Mister Bubbles. You… you were bad… Yo… you couldn't do it. You have to st…stay there… you're bad…"

* * *

Third Age of the Sun…

Daddy told me meeting new people, especially people who are not quick to accept novelties, can be like trying to untie a knot with your tongue - it's most likely that you'll end up wagging your tongue for hours only to achieve nothing. Then why do it? He would say, "It's a wonderful skill to have, little goose. It opens up new possibilities, lets you learn about others, and maybe even make new friends." He would ask where I was off to in such a hurry, and then gently bump me on the head for saying I was off to get some practice rope. Even after all this time, I felt the lump grow in my throat. I swallowed it down. May _El-ahrairah_ play you no tricks on your way to _Sukhavati, _Daddy.

I started at the heavy clunk of Bofur's war-hammer hitting the ground next to me. The cheerful dwarf made no comment on my surprise and plopped himself down next to me. "Here we are lass," Bofur's legs sprawled out in front of him. Out came his pipe, "You don't mind, do you lass?" Bofur waved his pipe.

"Not at all Mister Bofur," it was strange that he asked in the first place. Did Dwarven women take strong stances against smoking? I looked around the circle, most of the other dwarves smoked. Dori was off on the far side of the circle speaking with the coppery redheaded dwarf who built the fire, both puffing their pipes. The triangularly haired dwarf smoked and stared down at whatever Ori scribbled into the latter's leather bound journal. The "inner circle" was still off inner circling, tobacco rings and tobacco butterflies drifting upwards from their huddle. Bifur had not moved and the dwarves took care not to disturb him. Bombur puttered around the cooking pot, while he enthusiastically taste tested dinner. Fili and Kili, which ever which one was which, had not joined the circle - I assumed the ponies kept them from joining the rest of us. My eyes caught on the salt and peppery colored dwarf. Great streams of smoke curled and looped round his braided beard. His dark eyes bored into me, as if my breath was an affront to him. I quickly averted my gaze downward.

"I forgot the introductions," Bofur slapped his palm to his forehead, "Oye lads!" Bofur heaved himself up to stand. I rocked forward to tuck my toes under me, so I could rise as well. "This is Isabeau. Isabeau this is," Bofur inhaled deeply and pointed to each dwarf in turn, "BomburBifurOriNoriDoriGloina ndOin." I bowed. Bofur swept his hand off to the inner circle, "Now you know Lords Thorin and Balin, but that big-un currently sneering at me in a highly disapproving manner is Dwalin. Don't worry," Bofur leaned closer and spoke from the corner of his mouth, "his manners are much worse than he looks." I still bowed. "Doesn't your back get tired from that? The lads Fili and Kili are tending to the ponies, but they will be around. That leaves our burglar, Bilbo Baggins," Bofur scanned the camp for the little ma… the hobbit.

"Hello miss," a phantom voice spoke behind me.

"Oh!" Immediately I felt my face heat from embarrassment, which the witnessing dwarves found woefully entertaining. I turned to greet Mister Bilbo; his face was apologetic.

"Sorry, did not mean to startle anyone," Bilbo nervously fiddled with his vest pockets.

"It's no harm done, Mister Bilbo," I bowed. A spark of interest lit up Bilbo's face and he mirrored my bow.

"Introductions completed, I'd say," Bofur affectionately thumped Bilbo on the back. Bilbo managed to hold his ground, but his wince revealed the novelty of the action. Bofur and I returned to our place in the circle; Bilbo brushed off a small rock adjacent me to use as a seat.

Bilbo cleared his throat, "Have you been in the area long Miss Isabeau?" Where Bofur was comfortable with impropriety, Bilbo's nature was the opposite.

"I travelled here from Gondor about a week ago, but I've never visited this area before. And you Mister Bilbo?"

Bilbo took in our surroundings and exhaled heavily, "I grew up a day's journey back that way, in the Shire… Do you know the Shire?" I shook my head.

"No. Is it the same as here?"

"It's mostly farm land, actually. Though we do have the forest of Buckland right at our door," Bilbo's eyes focused on something far away and beyond sight for a moment. I folded my hands in my lap and let him live in the memory. No. Now was the moment. Leap into substance or suffer the art of polite conversation.

"Mister Bilbo, forgive my abruptness, but I must confess you're the first Hobbit I've ever met," Bilbo stared at me… Maybe I should have stuck with polite conversation a bit longer. "I mean…," I took a second to gather my thoughts, "I am unfamiliar with social practices in Hobbit culture and I hoped you could share some knowledge with me on that front. If you want to! That is…" Bilbo continued to stare at me.

Bofur leaned close to loudly whisper, "Now that you've got him lulled into a false sense of security, try for his biscuit recipe."

The urge to blow out his pipe sparked within me, suddenly Bilbo chuckled. "Well Miss, I suppose I should say I've never seen a dwarf or a… umm," Bilbo awkwardly gestured at me, "lady such as yourself before… Are you a wizard?"

Bofur relaxed against his pack and continued to smoke. I placed a hand on my pendent and rubbed it through my _kameez_, "Oh no. I'm Avia." How to tell it… "Avia are the people of _El-ahrairah_, the prince with a thousand enemies. We lived on the floating isles over the Misty Mountains, until the end of the second age. Those isles… are gone now, so those of us left wander." Bilbo's eyes grew wide. He scooted closer to me, as much as his sense of propriety and his rock seat allowed.

"Floating isles? You lived on mountain peaks?"

"No, they were great chunks of land that floated above the mountain tops. Warmed by the sun and hydrated by the clouds," it was my turn to stare at something beyond sight, "My people traded with all the peoples of Middle Earth, so the isles took on the cultures of others yet always remained Avia. There were five of them. The first was Petalas – its silk worms produced all the silk in the West. The next isle, Donoussa, had its glass making; the whole island blazed golden in sunlight and twinkled in starlight. The musicians of Keros never stopped playing," I smiled, "Father used to say it would sway from the constant celebrations held there, but I never saw it. Trikeri served as the meeting place. It was the market of Avia, where all the islands brought their goods and services to trade. It also housed the great Avia library, the meeting halls, the wall of the dead, and most of the population of Avia. The last was Kythira, the largest and grandest isle by far. The gardens of Kythira produced food for the other islands. The nobility lived on Kythira too, in houses made of wood."

Bilbo frowned, "They didn't live in glass houses?"

I shook my head, "Trees are plentiful on the land, but seldom do you find them in the sky."

Bilbo pursed his lips in thought and nodded, "S'pose that makes sense."

I picked up my staff, "Actually the only trees native to Avia were sky willows." I let Bilbo hold it, his eyes scrunched up to inspect the carvings.

"It's lighter than I thought it'd be," Bilbo hefted the staff a few times before handing it back. "How did your people get from place to place?"

"We," I was interrupted by Ori, who plopped himself down right in front of us.

"You flew! Right? Like birds," Ori's quill furiously danced on the page.

"Ori!" Dori marched over, "Don't interrupt the Lady." Ori paid him no heed; he fixated his hazel eyes on me.

"Yes. We flew," Ori's quill spasmed across his journal, "but not like birds. It's different, because," a shadow fell over the small gathering.

We all looked up and then looked up a few more feet to see Gandalf. "If I might borrow Lady Isabeau, we have matters to discuss," Gandalf held out his arm towards the "inner circle". They summoned me…gulp.

I faced the dwarves and Bilbo, "Excuse me." I bowed from my seat and rose. I took up my staff, brushed the dirt from my knees, and then followed behind Gandalf.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: This is my first story and first writing attempt in quite some time. I have put everything through Word for spell and grammar check, but I am sure horrible catastrophes of grammar abound. Several works influenced the imagining of my OC, so I most certainly do not lay claim to anything you recognize in dialogue or plot. I would love reviews. _

_Thanks Hershey gurl for adding my story to your favorites._

_Thanks DancingAngel1107 for following._

_Thank you goldspleen, for my first review! Bofur made himself irresistible very quickly. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Tolkien's Auxiliary work, Watership Down, Avatar the Last Airbender, or Peter Pan. Wicked Grace is the card game from the Dragon Age series. The description of the game is Fizzbin from Star Trek. The yoga Isabeau performs is a mix of Vinyasa and Ananda yoga. I am not making money off this. I play with the ideas, characters, and plots found in those works/philosophies. _

_Later chapters will earn the M rating, but for now the rating is lower (T) for drug reference_

**Chapter Four**

Third Age of the Sun…

"Any tips?" I resisted the urge to tug at my clothes.

Gandalf frowned down at me, "There's no need to be nervous Isabeau." Yes, they are only the dwarves leading this company, the ones who the others willingly follow… breathe.

The walk from the campfire to the rock formation Thorin used as a meeting table was entirely too short. As we drew close, Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin abruptly stopped their conversation. Right. I wished I'd worn a veil that covered the lower half of my face, that would've made this easier. Thorin and Balin rose, Dwalin a second later with a negativist manner. Thorin extended a hand to indicate the free space for me, between Balin and Gandalf. We all sat. "We can get right to business, since Bofur's seen to introductions," Thorin studied me for a few moments.

At Thorin's nod, Balin spoke "Gandalf tells us you are well versed in the history between our people." I nodded. Gandalf cleared his throat.

"Yes Lord Balin," I corrected myself, "I was a very committed student as a child."

"We don't need a bloody life story," Dwalin growled. He glared at me.

I glared right back. I could still see the Treaty of Kings, first age, on that library desk. "Let it be known, here and now, this covenant shall name the children of Durin and _El-ahrairah_ allies. To each other, pledge trade in times of peace, aid in times of struggle, and armies in times of war," I went to continue, but Thorin held up a hand to stop me.

"Enough, you are versed," Thorin looked down at the smoldering tobacco in his pipe. "Your people… Your people lived true to their word unto the end. They did not deserve the death that came to them," no one looked at me. A warm breeze blew through the heavy silence to carry pipe smoke towards the sea. Thorin continued, "It is that history, which excuses your absence when Erebor fell to Smaug."

Gandalf choked on his shock and smoke. Anger twisted in my gut, "Excuse my absence!"

Thorin eyes burned into mine, "Yes, your absence. All Avia refugees should have presented themselves to my people after Avia fell, so we could protect you. Had we the support of any remaining Avia that day, this exile from Erebor could've been avoided."

Protection, as if we were lost children! I opened my mouth to tell Thorin where he could stick his generous pardon. "I'm sure Lady Isabeau feels for the state of your people Thorin. She understands better than most what it is to lose a homeland and demonstrates her desire to see your homeland restored by joining your quest," Gandalf shot a warning look at me as he exercised his diplomacy, "We here all untied to your cause."

Inhale… exhale… "Yes. I am here to honor the memory of my people and the pact that once united us," _El-ahrairah _witness, I planned to put some of Ori's ink in Thorin's tea.

Balin cleared his throat, "Thank you dear Lady. Gandalf tells us you also are knowledgeable in the ancient magic borne to your people."

I relaxed slightly, "He speaks truly, Lord Balin. I am a fully trained wind walker."

"Don't suppose you could prove that too? Flap your wings. Recite the training book," Dwalin smirked. I narrowed my eyes at him. Dwalin took this as a challenge and sneered. He drew from his pipe. I smirked as his eyes widened in surprise and his cheeks hollowed. I did not blame him; it is hard to smoke a pipe when the air refuses to flow through it. Gandalf sighed wearily.

"We were thinking of a larger demonstration," Thorin banged out the tobacco from his pipe. He undoubtedly wanted to avoid Dwalin's infortune.

"A larger demonstration would extinguish the cooking fire or attract unwanted attention," I folded my hands in my lap. Dwalin grumbled to himself and banged out his pipe.

"Wisely decided then, Lady Isabeau," Balin nodded to me. I returned the nod, glad that one dwarf at this table did not blame or mock me.

"Lord Thorin has something to show you," Gandalf suggested to Thorin.

"First, you will swear on your honor and the honor of your people that you will reveal nothing of what you are about to learn to any one, in this life or in the after," Thorin gripped something tucked into his jerkin.

I met his eyes dead on, "I so swear. May _El-ahrairah_ throw me to torment at the hands of _Inle_ should I break this oath."

Thorin looked to Balin, who nodded. Thorin looked to Dwalin, he studied me then nodded too. Gandalf exhaled. Out of his jerkin, Thorin pulled a folded piece of parchment. He brushed the rock in front of him off. The parchment unfolded to reveal an exquisitely illustrated map of Erebor and the lands surrounding it. My breath caught at the sight of five ink islands floating over the ink mountain chains near the map borders. "This map holds the secret of infiltrating the dragon Smaug's lair, a door hidden in the mountain side," Thorin smoothed the map edges with care as he spoke. "It does not mention the door's location. Is there anything your Avia eyes see? Any detail that escapes our notice?" The dwarves grew very still.

I hesitated in reaching for the map. I looked to Thorin, he nodded. Gingerly, I picked up the map. It was beautiful… Focus! "It is Dwarven made," I licked my lips, "Dwarf doors are invisible when closed, right?" The dwarves nodded.

"They are made to look exactly like the mountainside they are carved into," Balin whispered.

"Wouldn't it make sense that your people would do the same with their maps? Details that looks like map, but aren't," I looked to Thorin.

"Explain," Thorin ordered.

"Most written languages in the West developed from an alphabet- the letters represent sounds, the letters are combined to make sounds of spoken words, the words correspond with an idea, and the idea leads to understanding. Avia written languages are somewhat different. In the beginning, _El-ahrairah_ captured his speech in pictures. These pictures served as the first written language of the Avia and they remained at the heart of every Avia dialect created hence. Therefore, the Avia written word for tree looks like a tree, instead of being a combination of letters to spell out the word. Does anyone have a looking glass?" Balin fumbled in his coat pockets to produce his. "Thank you Lord Balin," I spread the map down on the rock, "I suggest the possibility that some pictures drawn here..."

Thorin finished my thought, "are words, pictograms." The air vibrated with dwarf tension, Dwalin went so far as to hold his breath. They waited. I focused on the ink, ignoring for now the stretches of empty parchment. Please let there be something… nothing… wait!

"Here! The borders have some sort of," the map shot out from my view, "markings…" Thorin held out his hand for Balin's looking glass. I handed it over.

Thorin scoured the borders of the map, then let loose a relieved exhale, "Khuzdul!"

"How long to translate?" Dwalin craned his neck to stare at the map.

"A few hours, the translation must be perfect," Thorin started muttering to himself.

Balin turned to me, a warm smile beamed from his face, "Thank you, Lady Isabeau." He held out his hand.

"Oh! It… it was nothing Lord Balin," I extended my hand. Balin clasped it firmly, but gently. Gandalf tapped me on my shoulder,

"I think it'll be a good to give the Lords some time to themselves," his blue eyes twinkled. Gandalf and I rose. Balin rose, then reached over to smack Dwalin in the arm. Dwalin rose, which prompted Thorin to rise as well. I bowed.

Tension I did not realize I held released on the walk back to the campfire. Gandalf relaxed too. The thought popped into my head, "How did you miss writings hidden in the decorated border Gandalf?"

Gandalf scowled, "Another word and I tell Thorin you plan to ink his tea." I smiled.

The dwarves sat in a slightly altered arrangement. Bifur and Bombur had not changed. Oin and Gloin sat farther from the others, talking with Dori and… the blonde one. I needed someone to set the record straight on Fili and Kili. Nori sat with Bofur, shuffling a well-loved deck of cards. Ori and Bilbo chatted about Hobbit holiday customs. Gandalf chose to join Oin and Gloin's group. I reclaimed my spot between Bofur and Bilbo. I barely had time to set my staff down when Ori showered me with questions.

"How do you spell the island names? Could you give gross incomes for each island? What did you build the lower class housing from? What holidays did you celebrate? How high was each island? Did you have problems with birds smacking into the glass buildings? What's the," Ori flipped a page in his journal to keep reading.

Dori scowled and shouted over, "Ori!"

Nori chuckled, "He's passionate." Ori reddened.

"Apologies Mister Ori, but do you think I could answer your questions tomorrow? I could ride next to you in the column," a full day's ride and the exchange with Thorin and Dwalin wore my nerves. Ori stared down at his journal. "Won't that give you time to think up more questions?" I added, worried he was disappointed. Ori mumbled a small agreement. I sighed, "I'll write down the names so you can copy them. I have no idea. Some buildings were constructed like tents, others were shaped out of clay. We celebrated _El-ahrairah's _birth, changes in the seasons, the lunar cycle, and feast days corresponded with battles or key treaty signings. They tended to change elevation with the seasons, so I could not say. Apprentice wind walkers would shape the air currents around the glass buildings to prevent that." Ori's quill sprang into action.

Nori interrupted Ori before he could ask more questions, "That's it for tonight lad. Wait till tomorrow's ride."

"Told you the lass has a soft touch to her," Bofur reminded Nori as he tapped out his pipe.

Nori chuckled and held up his cards, "Anyone up for a nice honest game of wicked grace?"

Ori snorted, "Honest."

Bilbo cautiously asked, "How do you play?"

"We'll teach you, Mister Bilbo," Bofur tucked his pipe into his belt. His dark eyes caught mine, "Don't suppose ladies know how to play wicked grace…"

After talking with our fearless leaders, I pined for my evening prayers and exercises, yet the idea of a game tempted me. I checked my veil, still in place. The smell from the stew made my mouth water. Breathe… Life would look up soon, _El-ahrairah _play no tricks. I smiled, "Deuces, jacks, man with the axe, natural sevens take the pot."

Nori shuffled and dealt five hands, "Ey, there ya are. Those are the rules."

Bilbo picked up his cards and frowned at them, "That didn't explain anything."

Ori huffed and ordered his cards around, "Doesn't matter. Nori dealt."

Bofur stroked his mustache, his eyes never leaving his hand, "It's quite simple Bilbo. Each player gets six cards, except for the player to the dealer's right, who gets seven. The second card is turned up, except on Tuesday." I halted managing my own hand to stare bewildered at Bofur. Ori giggled.

Nori jumped right in, "Yes. If you have two jacks, you've got half a wicked grace."

"Right," Bilbo nodded at his cards.

Bofur continued, "If two players have a half wicked grace, the second one of them turns into a sralk and the player is disqualified."

"Wait, how do you," Nori quickly interrupted Bilbo.

"The second person would need either a king or a deuce, except at night, of course, when you'd need a queen and a four." Nori continued, "If you've got two sevens and get a king, then you get another card. Except when it's dark, then you'd have to give it back. What you want is a royal wicked grace, but the odds of getting that are nigh impossible."

Bilbo put his cards down, "… You're putting me on." Bofur and Nori put their cards down as well to stare at Bilbo with gravity.

"We take cards… very seriously, Mister Bilbo Baggins," Bofur was a ridiculous picture of fake sincerity. I held my cards close to my face, trying to hide my snickering. Bilbo looked at me.

I coughed to conceal my mirth, "Don't worry Mister Bilbo, it's Wednesday."

The night ended with merry making and the delicious stew, what Bombur's vigorous taste testing left us with, really hit the spot. Thorin assigned members to keep watch, but one by one well all slept beneath the stars.

I rose before sunrise. If I was quick about it, I could get my morning prayers and exercises finished before Thorin called to break camp. Only Nori was awake, he kept the last watch. I nodded to him. He nodded quizzically back at me, but did not get up from his seat. I made a stop at the camp latrine, then hurried back to my belongings. I pulled out my prayer mat from my pack and headed off in search of a level clearing away from the others. There was one where the ponies gathered, it would have to do given my time constraint. Mercifully, there was a small are devoid of pony… leavings. I removed my veil and draped it over a nearby branch, it would only get in the way. Prayer mat check, braids secure check, facing East check.

I stood in mountain pose at the top of the mat. Inhale… Exhale… Ujjayi. The air in my lungs, warmed by the ujjayi, began to heat my body. Ananda, I tightened my abs and groin muscles slightly. I shut my eyes. "The breath warms the body, moves with the body, moves through the body, moves through all things," I whispered. My arms swept wide over my head. Palms met. I lowered them to my heart center. Uttanasna, I swan dived down until I stood bent in half. I lifted my head and upper body to plank pose. Chattaranga dandasana – I bent down, placed my hands, stepped back, then slowly lowered my body until my chin, heart, and knees hovered above ground. Without touching the ground, I pushed against the ground to raise my face and heart up towards the sky, cobra pose. I paused here, enjoying the stretch. Downward facing dog, I returned to hover above the ground supported by my toes and arms, then pushed my hips upwards, so my body made an upside-down V. I breathed and pushed deeper into the pose. Next, the cat and cow poses. I transitioned to kneel on my hands and knees. Concave back and hold. Convex back and hold. After a few repetitions, I positioned my weight over my arms and balanced solely on them as my legs kicked off the ground. Crow pose. My routine continued to standing straddle forward bend pose, warrior one and two poses, reverse warrior, extended side angle pose, finally triangle pose. I then moved backwards through my routine, till I was once again standing in mountain pose, with my palms pressed together at heart center. Ujjayi. Ananda.

A thin layer of sweat covered me, it felt fantastic. I should have advanced to the twisting poses, but I worried I'd run out of time. I ended with Vrksasana, tree pose, and let my mind wander… A twig snapped. My eyes opened, but nothing save the ponies and the sunrise greeted them. I bowed to the sunrise, feeling restored by my morning prayer. I re-veiled, shook my mat out, rolled it up.

The dwarves went about their own morning routines when I returned. I found Bilbo packed and ready to go, munching on a hunk of bread and apples. "Good morning," Bilbo offered.

"Good morning Mister Bilbo," I gathered my belongings and repacked my prayer mat. Bombur passed me a hunk of bread and an apple, breakfast! I bowed my thanks and tore into the bread.

Bilbo was in good spirits. "Breakfast on the road after a night sleeping under the stars," he sighed and stared at his apple, "wish I had some honey, tomatoes, eggs sunny-side up, three plates of bacon," Bilbo went on for two solid minutes listing what he called a traditional Hobbit breakfast.

"How could someone so small eat so much!" I laughed.

"I haven't even told you about elevenies," Bilbo finished his bread. He patted his pockets absently, then sighed. "I'm going to have to get used to traveling. Wish I had my handkerchief," Bilbo pulled out a bit of aged fabric from his pant pocket and dabbed at his mouth. I hummed my sympathy around my mouthful of apple.

"Lady Isabeau, Mister Bilbo," Dori was ready to greet the day as well. I beamed up at him, Bilbo hurriedly tried to swallow his mouthful. Dori tugged on his riding gloves, "We are ready to prep the ponies and break camp." I finished my apple and stood, Bilbo followed suit. "If you'd both bring your things, we'll help the lads saddle the ponies," Dori headed off to the ponies. I was not surprised to see a very rumpled Ori following behind him, lugging his pack.

The four of us quickly set about readying the ponies. Bilbo and I sorted out the riding equipment, Ori lead the ponies over one at a time, Dori hefted the blankets and saddles onto them. Dori and I fastened the necessary buckles and ties, afterwards Ori lead the finished ponies to a make shit hitching post. We prepped half the ponies by the time our companions arrived, carrying packed up components of our camp. Dori left to oversee the distribution of camp supplies to the saddled ponies, dragging a weary eyed Ori with him.

"Let's keep saddling," I said to Bilbo. Bilbo and I went to collect another pony… Ori made it look a lot easier than it was. None of the ponies wanted to move! After several minutes of trying to coax my bay colored pony to follow us, Bilbo and I put our heads together. I suggested, "What if we gave her one of your apples?"

"Ori didn't need any bribes, we should just be firm with her," Bilbo's stomach growled. A clicking sound drew our attention to… Fili and Kili, who stood smirking next to the riding gear. My pony walked happily over to them. The blonde one scratched my pony under her chin, while the brunette one settled and fastened the saddle. Bilbo tugged sharply at his vest, "Seems pretty straight forward. " He marched off, clicking his tongue, and sure enough, a grey pony happily wandered over to him. I walked back with Bilbo and the pony, we stopped on the other side of the sorted riding equipment. Bilbo was too short to lift the saddle onto the pony, so he kept him still while I set the blanket. A pair of muscular hands plucked the saddle I reached for from the ground.

"You need to set the blanket higher," the blonde dwarf's silver mustache clasps danced when he talked.

"Oh," I tugged the blanket higher on the pony's back. The blonde dwarf handed me the saddle when I held my arms out for it. With a grunt, I slung it onto the pony's back and set about fastening it. The dwarf inspected my work approvingly. "Thank you…" I tugged to make sure my veil was in the proper place.

He chuckled and bowed, "Fili, at your service." I quickly bowed back. The brunette dwarf… Kili appeared, carrying a bridle. Bilbo took the bridle and fit it to the pony. Kili grinned cheekily at me, "Good morning Lady, Kili at your service." Kili bowed.

"Isabeau, at yours," I bowed back. I watched as Bilbo rolled his eyes behind Kili and Fili. Fili and Kili went back to saddling more ponies, Bilbo and I worked to keep up with them. Thorin and the rest of the "inner circle" made their debut, just as the Fili and Kili saddled the last pony. They left to help Gandalf saddle his horse, leaving Bilbo and I to wait for the call to mount. I wanted to ask how the translation went, but the small storm cloud hanging over Thorin's head hinted this might be a bad time. It did not take long for Thorin to mount his pony and signal for everyone to do the same.

A brighter eyed Ori rushed his pony next to mine, nearly causing Bilbo's poor pony to buck. "I think we should start with socio-economic structures, then work our way to family genealogies, we can outline," the column had fully formed by the time Ori finished listing the general topic headings. _Eru_ help me. So began our second day of riding.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: This is my first story and first writing attempt in quite some time. I have put everything through Word for spell and grammar check, but I am sure horrible catastrophes of grammar abound. Several works influenced the imagining of my OC, so I most certainly do not lay claim to anything you recognize in dialogue or plot. I would love reviews. _

_Thank you MidlightDream for adding my story to your favorite list. :)_

_Also, thank you to the +200 viewers. I hope you enjoy what you read. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Tolkien's Auxiliary work, Watership Down, Avatar the Last Airbender, or Peter Pan. The fairy tale Isabeau tells is a modified version of an Indian fairy tale found here, . I did not write it. I am not making money off this. I play with the ideas, characters, and plots found in those works. _

_Later chapters will earn the M rating, but for now the rating is lower (T) for drug reference _

_**Chapter Five**_

Third Age of the Sun…

Five hours. Five solid, _Eru_ blessed, hours I answered Ori's questions. Ori recorded everything from governmental procedures to protocol on tooth care into his leather bound journal. I liked to talk about my culture, but _El-ahrairah_ witness this was full out interrogation! Page turns inspired fear now, for each one acted a harbinger for another battery of inquires. Ori certainly picked up his managerial skills from Dori; any time attempt to escape into another subject, Ori crushed with brutal efficiency. "You know, talking about the evolution of termite treatment on Kythira is fascinating, it reminds me of this persistent nightmare I had as a child. It always started with," I would say.

"We still have to cover the effectiveness of cedar inlays, then it's how your people handled work-man's compensation for injuries during carpentry related activities," Ori would say, never looking up from his penmanship. A plan formed in my mind. Never mind fighting Smaug, we could just send Ori to interview him. If Smaug had any sense of self-preservation, he would off himself by the end of the day - it was the only guaranteed release from this torture. Ori's unending probing surely left his victims psychologically haunted for the rest of their days. The sooner I dumped his ink into Thorin's drink, the better. I just needed to pray Ori possessed no auxiliary inkwells.

The dwarves surrounding us were no help. Oin and Gloin rode in front of us. I felt safe assuming they would eat their beards before saving me, since they made their agenda to shun me absolutely apparent. Dori and Bifur rode aft. Ori and Nori informed Dori of the arrangement this morning, so he let Ori enjoy himself. Bifur, it turned out, could talk, but his speech constituted little more than Khuzdul and hand gestures. No assistance there. Lunch, once again served on horseback, did not deter Ori either. He spoke around gulps of tomato and cheese sandwich and I responded around bites of my sandwich. I rubbed at my temples, since I could not reach the growing ache behind my eyeballs.

Suddenly, the sun shone through the trees, birds burst into song, and Ori stopped talking. Sweet merciful _Eru_, freedom! "Is that it?" I asked before my brain could silence my tongue. What was wrong with me! Ori fidgeted in his saddle, looking everywhere but at me.

"I wanted to ask," Ori's voice shrank into nothing. I sighed,

"Ori, this has gone on all day. I cannot remember a time…" I stopped myself, not wanting to take my frustrations out on Ori. _El-ahrairah_ probably cackled at me, I did tell Ori I would answer his questions. Inhale… Exhale… "Go ahead and ask Ori," what ever it was, it could not be that horrible a question.

Ori took a deep breath, "Is your skin dark, because you were burnt by the Sun when you were born?" No words. I slumped in my saddle in a stunned silence.

"Ori!" Dori sputtered with outrage. His tirade began with assured apologies to me and continued with a furious lecture on suitable topics to discuss with ladies. Suitable topics to discuss with ladies… not that Ori's assumption about my skin color was insulting, because it assumed I was not "skin colored" due to some awful accident, but because it wasn't polite to talk to females about things like that. I felt… numb. Alone. The only Avia and the only female. I tightened my grip on my staff and straightened my posture. It was difficult to not react beyond that - not to look at my caramel colored skin, not to damn Gandalf's no-flying rule and take off. I thought of Diane and Jesika, their coffee colored skin and bright happy eyes … of scratches in the stone. Stop! A quick bite to the inside of my cheek prevented my thoughts from falling into that nightmarish memory. Acceptance was the bitter option open to me. I was different, that came with surviving in a world devoid of my nation.

"No Ori," my words formed with forced calm, "my people were not burned by the sun." Dori offered to switch places in the column with me, I agreed. The flora and fauna of the forest gave me the excuse to avoid observing anyone around me. A gentle hand tapped my shoulder. Bifur's far-away eyes met mine. For a moment something flashed within them, something lucid. I watched as Bifur slowly pointed to the axe embedded in his skull. It was terrible up close. Orc metal, cracked wood, and flesh knitted together by thick scars. I could not fathom the pain it caused him or what such a wound took from him. Bifur's hand lowered to my arm, softly touching the exposed skin of my wrist. When I looked back up at him, the lucidity was gone and he once more stared silently forward. I quickly turned my face back to the forest, struggling to swallow the lump in my throat. Maybe, if I simply saw myself as different, I would not feel so alone riding next to Bifur.

The next hours past quietly. Dori finally tired himself out and the scolding of Ori ended. Ori's shoulders hunched and his head drooped, the same position since Dori and I switched places in the column. Yes Ori's question was insensitive and boorish. Yes Dori spent several hours hammering the wrong lesson into his head. Yes I was still angry and offended by the ordeal. However, it was plain to any observer that Ori felt consumed with guilt and wretched for his actions and slight against me. True understanding could be cultivated later; right now it was enough that Ori punished himself. I leaned forward in my saddle, "You'll get sores riding like that." Ori turned in his saddle to stare back at me. The skin around his eyes was puffy and red. I smiled, "Keep your heels down." Ori sniffed and nodded, turning back around and riding a bit straighter. He looked a bit less miserable.

"It's that soft touch again," a familiar voice spoke behind me. I did not realize Bofur rode behind me. I leaned back up in my saddle.

"Mister Bofur," I added when I saw his riding partner, "Mister Bilbo."

"Bilbo here was just telling me about his grandfather. Something about inventing golf," Bofur puffed on his pipe. Bilbo immediately spun the tale of the Battle of Greenfields, in which the Hobbits defended against and defeated Goblin troops invading the Shire. Bilbo, at my request, then went on to explain that golf was now played with tiny white balls instead heads of vanquished foes. "They use those for decorating fences," Bofur sagely stated. I pretended to believe Bofur, while Bilbo vehemently denied it. I crinkled my nose at Bilbo, to let him in on the teasing. He made the same face back.

Once again Thorin signaled to make camp an hour before sunset. We reached the foothills of the Misty Mountains today. The terrain grew increasingly rocky, but the forests and clearings persisted. Camp turned out to be a cramped clearing on a hilltop, unlike the wide openness of last night's camp. "Fili. Kili. Tend to the ponies," Thorin handed out orders to everyone. He sent Bilbo and me went to fetch water for the stew and refill the company's water skins. We stashed our packs at Dori's direction; he was naturally in charge of organizing the campsite. I kept my staff. Bilbo pilled all the skins into the pot, so we could manage the weight between us. We left the hilltop past the ponies, Fili and Kili waved as we past.

"You two think you can handle all that," Kili called out.

"We'll be just fine, thank you Mister Kili," I called back. When we entered the cover of the trees, I urged Bilbo to pause for a moment. I conjured some breezes and sent them into our surroundings. Bilbo stared at me with his jaw dropped.

"How did you do that?" He managed after a few seconds. I shushed him, focusing. The breezes returned with scents and sounds. Water was due south.

"This way Mister Bilbo," I smiled and headed south through the trees, using my staff as a walking stick. Bilbo hurried after me,

"How did you do that? You moved your hands and… you controlled the breeze!" Bilbo struggled to put his observation to words.

I laughed softly, "It's just something I do. All my people could do it. I cannot really explain why. To explain how… It's like how anyone can move air to breathe, I'm just a very effective breather." Bilbo shook his head in disbelief. I giggled, "I could just say magic."

Bilbo sighed, "Well how did you find the water?" He pointed in front of us, where a stream cut through the forest floor. We set the pot on the ground to unpack the skins.

I took my shoes off, "Water has a smell and running water makes sound, both are carried on the wind. I just collect the wind briefly and try to detect both." I stepped gingerly into the stream, yelping at the cold temperature. Bilbo sat on the steam bank and put his feet in the water, hissing at the temperature.

"How do you know what direction to go in, if you collect the air? Does the wind talk to you?" I sat with him on the bank, we enjoyed the cooling sensation together.

"Just lots of practice. Do Hobbits have any gifts from _Eru_?"

"Don't know who that is, but Hobbits have a private nature," Bilbo brought out his pipe and began to smoke. "Gandalf thinks we… well he thinks I could be a burglar." I hummed in contemplation.

"Maybe Hobbits are very effective at being private, which lets them go unnoticed," I thought back to how Bilbo unintentionally scared me.

Bilbo smoked, "I suppose going unnoticed would be a plus for a burglar." Bilbo did not offer more, so I did not ask. I stood and began filling the skins, being careful to take the water from upstream. Bilbo smoked on for a bit, but soon put away his pipe to help me. We collected all the water we could in the skins and filled the cooking pot two-thirds full. I wiped my feet off on the grass and put my shoes back on. Bilbo frowned at the heavier load we needed to carry back to camp, "Maybe we should have accepted some help. Don't suppose you could conjure up some wind to carry this lot up hill."

I shook my head. "That's why I brought my staff," I thread my staff through the carrying straps on the skins and the pot handle, distributing the weight evenly along it. "If you get under one end and I the other, we can use the staff to lift and spread the weight between us," I demonstrated by crouching so one end of my staff was resting on my shoulder.

"You sure it'll hold the weight? Looks like it will snap in half," Bilbo fiddled with vest pockets nervously.

"Don't worry, it's tougher than it looks. We will lift on three," Bilbo took his position and on three we stood. As long as we travelled slowly, it would work. By the time we made it back to camp, Fili and Kili had all the ponies turned free for the night and the riding equipment set out to air.

Kili laughed and applauded our ingenuity, then held his hand out to Fili. Fili dropped two coins into his hand, "Thought you two took on more than you could handle."

Bilbo scoffed, as if he carried this weight every day of his life, "Well serves you right then." I chuckled and shook my head. After we dropped the cooking pot off, Bilbo and I deposited the skins according to Dori's instruction. I looked to the setting sun; I needed to see to my evening prayers.

"Pardon me Mister Dori," I walked over to him, "I need to see to my evening prayers. Is there anything else I should do to set camp?"

Dori turned from his conversation with Lord Balin, "Evening prayers?" I nodded.

Lord Balin studied me for a moment, before recognition lit his features, "Ah. Avia offer evening prayers during the sun set."

I smiled and bowed, "Correct Lord Balin. I will not be long, but I did not want to seem like I was avoiding my duties." Dori nodded his consent, so I gathered my prayer mat and searched for a good spot. I found one on the opposite side of the hill from the ponies. I followed the same procedure as my morning prayers – laying down my mat to face West, de-veiling, Ujjayi, Ananda, and my prayer movements. The evening allowed for a slower pace, so I leaned into every stretch and bend. It felt glorious! My exertions cause me to sweat, but with all the funk of two days travel clinging to all of us I would not smell or appear worse than any of my dwarf companions. I ended my prayers with meditation… eyes closed… clear the mind… If a thought occurs, acknowledge it and let it go…

"Lady Isabeau," Gandalf called out from afar. I opened my eyes to find that the sun had set. I heard Gandalf talking to someone in the distance, so I swiftly re-veiled and packed up my prayer mat. Gandalf's head poked through the trees, "There you are. I trust your evening prayers brought you comfort."

I walked up to him, "As they always do. It would benefit you, evening prayer."

Gandalf winced and rubbed his spine, "Wizards don't bend that way Isabeau." We walked back to camp. Nori orchestrated another card game in one corner of the camp; I could only guess what rules he chose to make up tonight. Bilbo, Dori, and Ori sat with Oin and Gloin, smoking and chatting. Bifur sat staring into the cooking fire. Bombur bustled around the pot. The "inner circle" sat against a nearby rocky overhang. I did not see Bofur, Fili, or Kili anywhere. Gandalf stopped me from going any farther, "How are you Isabeau?"

I tugged on my veil, "I am all right Gandalf." I looked over the company, it felt good to join their cause, and they were good dwarves. "I hope the inner circle remains productive," I nodded towards Thorin.

Gandalf sighed and stroked his beard, "Productive, but not appeased. I thought you had done it last night, but the answer is like all dwarf secrets – highly elusive. Thorin remains hopeful, but I worry." I looked up at Gandalf, concern etched into his features. I knew better than to ask.

"It's a wizard's prerogative to worry," I turned to him, "Besides, you and I will keep them out of most trouble." Gandalf's expression darkened,

"Yes… you will be here…" Gandalf trailed off in thought. I clear my throat to gain his attention. Gandalf shook himself. Time to repack my prayer mat. Gandalf joined the inner circle, while I saw to my things. I chose to settle down beside Bifur and watch Bombur cook.

"Sit on his right side," Bombur paused in his cooking to speak to me.

"I'm sorry Mister Bombur?"

"Sit on his right side, you're making him nervous," Bombur nodded at Bifur and went back to cooking. Bifur just sat and stared into the fire… wait… I saw it now, the twitching hands and tightness in Bifur's frame.

"Pardon me Mister Bifur," I switched to sit on his right side. Bifur's hands stilled and his frame relaxed. We sat in silence together for a spell.

Bombur spoke up again, "You can talk to him."

What would I say? What would he want to hear? … Maybe … maybe he would like to hear a story. The sight of Bombur over the cooking pot reminded me of a bedtime story Hyzenthlay would tell me. I started according to Avia tradition, "When the world was young, there came a day when _El-ahrairah_ became restless. His friends and family tried to distract him from his wanderlust, but nothing soothed the Avia prince. _El-ahrairah_ consulted his most trusted advisor, his bride _Vilthuril_. _Vilthuril_ was known across Arda for her beauty and wisdom, if anyone knew how to help _El-ahrairah_ it was her. She listened to _El-ahrairah_ speak with patience, for _El-ahrairah_ had many responsibilities and burdens on his shoulders. After_ El-ahrairah_ finished, _Vilthuril _sat in meditation for three days. Only _El-ahrairah_'s love for _Vilthuril_ kept him from interrupting her. His bride ended her meditation with a solution. She told _El-ahrairah_ to explore his kingdom and the lands surrounding. So began _El-ahrairah_'s wanderings."

Bofur, Fili, and Kili appeared on my right. They sat with us at the fire, but remained silent. Tobacco pipes came out and they waited for me to continue. Bifur kept staring into the fire. "This is the tale of one of _El-ahrairah_'s wanderings, that of the tiger, the priest, and the prince," I took a calming breath. "In the time of wanderings, a tiger was caught in a trap. He tried in vain to get out through the bars, and rolled and bit with rage and grief when he failed. By chance a poor priest came by.

'Let me out of this cage, oh pious one!' cried the tiger.

'Nay, my friend,' replied the priest mildly, 'you would probably eat me if I did.'

'Not at all!' swore the tiger with many oaths; 'on the contrary, I should be for ever grateful, and serve you as a slave!'

Now when the tiger sobbed and sighed and wept and swore, the pious priest's heart softened, and at last he consented to open the door of the cage. Out popped the tiger, and, seizing the poor man, cried, 'What a fool you are! What is to prevent my eating you now, for after being cooped up so long I am just terribly hungry!' In vain the priest pleaded for his life; the most he could gain was a promise to abide by the decision of the first three things he chose to question as to the justice of the tiger's action.

So the priest first asked a papal- tree what it thought of the matter, but the papal-tree replied coldly, 'What have you to complain about? Don't I give shade and shelter to every one who passes by, and don't they in return tear down my branches to feed their cattle? Don't whimper-be a man!'

Then the priest, sad at heart, went further afield till he saw a buffalo turning a well-wheel; but he fared no better from it, for it answered, 'You are a fool to expect gratitude! Look at me! Whilst I gave milk they fed me on cotton-seed and oil-cake, but now I am dry they yoke me here, and give me refuse as fodder!'

The priest, in despair, asked the road to give him its opinion. 'My dear sir,' said the road, 'how foolish you are to expect anything else! Here am I, useful to everybody, yet all, rich and poor, great and small, trample on me as they go past, giving me nothing but the ashes of their pipes and the husks of their grain!'

On this the priest turned back sorrowfully, and on the way he met_ El-ahrairah_, who called out, 'Why, what is the matter, servant of _Eru_? You look as miserable as a fish out of water!' The priest told him all that had occurred. 'How very confusing!' said_ El-ahrairah_, when the recital was ended; 'would you mind telling me over again, for everything has got so mixed up?' The priest told it all over again, but _El-ahrairah _shook his head in a distracted sort of way, and still could not understand. 'It is very odd,' said he, sadly, 'but it all seems to go in at one ear and out at the other! I will go to the place where it all happened, and then perhaps I shall be able to give a judgment.'

So they returned to the cage, by which the tiger was waiting for the priest, and sharpening his teeth and claws; 'You've been away a long time!' growled the savage beast, 'but now let us begin our dinner.'

'Our dinner!' thought the wretched priest, as his knees knocked together with fright; 'what a remarkably delicate way of putting it!'

'Give me five minutes, my lord!' he pleaded, 'in order that I may explain matters to this Avia here, who is somewhat slow in his wits.'

The tiger consented, and the priest began the whole story over again, not missing a single detail, and spinning as long a yarn as possible. 'Oh, my poor brain! Oh, my poor brain!' cried _El-ahrairah_, wringing his hands. 'Let me see! How did it all begin? You were in the cage, and the tiger came walking by—'

'Hah!' interrupted the tiger, 'what a fool you are! I was in the cage.'

'Of course!' cried_ El-ahrairah_, pretending to tremble with fright; 'yes! I was in the cage-no I was not-dear! Dear! Where are my wits? Let me see-the tiger was in the priest, and the cage came walking by-no, that is not it, either! Well, don't mind me, but begin your dinner, for I shall never understand!'

'Yes, you shall!' returned the tiger, in a rage at the _El-_ahrairah's stupidity; 'I'll make you understand! Look here-I am the tiger—'

'Yes, my lord! '

'And that is the priest—'

'Yes, my lord!'

'And that is the cage—'

'Yes, my lord!'

'And I was in the cage-do you understand?'

'Yes-no - Please, my lord—'

'Well?' cried the tiger impatiently.

'Please, my lord!-how did you get in?'

'How!-why in the usual way, of course!'

'Oh, dear me!-my head is beginning to whirl again! Please don't be angry, my lord, but what is the usual way?'

At this the tiger lost patience, and, jumping into the cage, cried, 'This way! Now do you understand how it was?'

'Perfectly!' grinned_ El-ahrairah_, as he dexterously shut the door, 'and if you will permit me to say so, I think matters will remain as they were!'" Fili, Kili, and Bofur chuckled. I finished according to tradition, "and with that _El-ahrairah _wandered on." My small audience applauded. I bowed. Bifur only stared into the fire, I could only hope my story entertained him.

Bombur served dinner, but the small group remained around the fire. My story inspired Fili, Kili, and Bofur to share Dwarven fables. Each fable invoked a renewed sense of awe - for jewels beneath the ground that rivaled the jeweled stars above, roaring fires and feast halls with tables that groaned under the weight of culinary splendor, but above all for the sense of belonging so inherent in each dwarf. Throughout the exchange, Bifur stared into the fire.

The moon climbed into the sky and one by one the members of the company slept, until only my small group and Bilbo who remained awake. We sat quietly, warming our hands in the fire, politely ignoring the choir of snoring. Bilbo stood and stretched. He pulled an apple from his coat pocket, "I'll… I'll be right back." We watched him make his way past sleeping comrades to the ponies, where he delivered a special snack to his pony. I grinned sleepily in his direction.

Bofur got up, navigated to the packs, and returned with my pack and two blankets. I nodded my thanks and pulled out my blanket to wrap up in. Bofur carefully draped one blanket over Bifur's slumped sleeping form. He returned to his seat and wrapped up in the other blanket. My eyes grew heavy.

Orc shriek on the wind! I shot to attention a few seconds before the shriek reached the camp. Bilbo scrambled back to the fire. "What was that!"

"Orcs," Kili said gravely.

"Orcs?" Bilbo squeaked.

"Throat cutters, there will be dozens of them out there. The low lands are crawling with them," Fili added. Movement behind me. It was Thorin and Lord Balin, woken by the shriek.

"They strike in the middle of the night, when everyone's asleep. No screams, just lots of blood," Kili shuddered. Bilbo grimaced, turning slightly green. Fili and Kili shot each other a look and chuckled. How… in what way was that funny?

Thorin growled, "You think that's funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?" His features twisted with disappointment and disgust. Fili and Kili flinched as if Thorin struck them.

Kili looked down, "We didn't mean anything by it."

Thorin scoffed and walked towards the edge of camp, "No you didn't. You both know nothing of the world." Fili and Kili were too ashamed to look anyone in the eye.

Lord Balin came to their rescue, "Don't mind Thorin laddie. He has more cause than most to hate orcs." Bilbo sat next to me and Lord Balin told us of Thorin Oakenshield and the Pale Orc. I could not help the admiration for Thorin Lord Balin's testimony inspired in me, neither could the dwarves. To face down such a foe, armed only with a branch and the love for a grandfather and father… It was courage and devotion worthy of _El-_ahrairah. Thorin stood staring off into the darkness. Behind him the dwarves rose, one by one. Every one would follow him into battle, into glory, into Smaug's lair itself. Thorin turned and for a second, before the mask of a king slid into place, I saw Thorin the dwarf. Old sadness, weariness, yet an inner strength to carry on.

"And what happened to the pale orc?" Bilbo's question shook me from my thoughts.

"That filth died of his wounds long ago," Thorin stalked back to his bed. Every one, save those on watch, went to bed. I remained awake, staring into the fire. A severed limb would kill most beings… I looked at Bifur's sleeping form, but some beings could survive what would kill most.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: This is my first story and first writing attempt in quite some time. I have put everything through Word for spell and grammar check, but I am sure horrible catastrophes of grammar abound. Several works influenced the imagining of my OC, so I most certainly do not lay claim to anything you recognize in dialogue or plot. I would love reviews. _

_Thank you __**Estelwing,**__**PrincessOfSilence,**__**SvnNightsNEire**__, and __**NavyReservist **__for following my story. _

_Thank you __**Pjotty **__and __**NavyReservist **__for adding my story to your favorites. _

_Thanks __**luna153 **__for the review and adding my story to your favorites. Fingers crossed that this chapter doesn't disappoint you. _

_Thank you to the +300 viewers, sorry it took me so long to update. I intended this chapter to cover more of the plot, but I couldn't find a good stopping point for the action bits. They will get their own chapter. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Tolkien's Auxiliary work, Watership Down, Avatar the Last Airbender, Peter Pan, or Winnie the Pooh. I am not making money off this. I play with the ideas, characters, and plots found in those works. _

_This chapter is rated T for violence._

**Chapter Six **

Second Age of the Sun…

"Tomkin, do you have the reports from yesterday's market closing? Good. _El-ahrairah_ play no tricks; we need this quarter to end in our favor. If the Queen thinks she can ignore the economic lull… Isabeau! What are you doing here? Where is Hyzenthlay?"

"Daddy, can I stay with you?"

"Would you inform Hyzenthlay that she's here with me?"

"Right away my lord."

"No! Daddy, I wanna stay with you!"

"Isabeau, daddy has a lot of work to complete before breakfast."

"I don't want to leave…"

"I… we… You have to promise to help daddy by sitting quietly."

"I promise."

"Let's get you set up then. Where are you slippers? Hold on. Wait here. Daddy's going to move his armchair closer to the fire… Up you go! Oh, Isabeau you're freezing. I have a blanket somewhere… Comfortable?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Good, I'll just be at my desk ther… Have you been crying?"

"… I had a bad dream."

"A bad dream? Didn't Mister Bubbles protect you?"

"No… he slept on the floor."

"Hyzenthlay waits in the hall my lord."

"Tell her to bring some coffee and tea. Push my meeting with Lord Celeborn back an hour."

"What shall I tell him my lord?"

"Tell him… Tell him Lady Isabeau required his original meeting time. _Eru _willing, he remembers what raising Celebrian was like."

"Very good my lord."

"Okay, little goose. You hug Mister Bubbles and I'll get my chair, then we shall discuss this bad dream."

"Okay."

"What was this dream?"

"You and Mommy were in my room. You and Mommy shouted a lot."

"We shouted at you?"

"No. You shouted at Mommy and Mommy shouted at you."

"Ah. Where were you?"

"Playing with Mister Bubbles on the floor."

"What happened next?"

"Mister Tomkin came in and said 'Granny was here.' You and Mommy stopped shouting and said we had to go see her."

"Mmm…"

"Then, then I tried to come too. I picked up Mister Bubbles, but… but you and Mommy were gone. And then I was chained to the floor…"

"It's all right Isabeau, I'm going to sit here with you. I'm not going anywhere. Was that the end?"

"No… I heard a bad sound."

"What kind of bad sound?"

"Chewing in the wall."

"Chewing?"

"It got louder. I couldn't run away."

"Did Mister Bubbles help you?"

"No, he was chained to the floor too."

"Is that when you woke up? No?"

"It got louder, then… then the teeth came through the wall… and, and it tried to eat me!"

"Come here, you're safe. Sh, you're safe. What tried to eat you?"

"The killer termite."

"_Eru _preserve us, who told you about that? Isabeau, who told you there was a killer termite?"

"Marcus… Are you mad at me?"

"No, little goose. Daddy is mad at your brother for filling your head with such horrid nonsense. If he has time for that, he has more time for training exercises. Isabeau, there is no such thing as the killer termite. Do you understand? It's just a story."

"Okay."

"You know, little goose, when you have dreams like that, you can always fight back against the monsters."

"Granny says girls cannot fight monsters."

"Oh? Sophia fights monsters. Remember, she brought you an arrow from her last tour?"

"Yes."

"Mister Bubbles fights monsters and he's an owl stuffed with fluff. You can fight monsters too."

"How?"

"Well… You can blow them away. You just puff up your cheeks and blow them away, like this."

"Hehe, like this."

"Ha ha, you have to breathe out Isabeau."

"My lord, little lady."

"Put the try on the desk, Hyzenthlay. Isabeau will be out in a moment."

"Yes my lord."

"Isabeau. You know you're mother and I would never leave you. No matter what."

"No matter what."

"Big hug!"

"You're… squishing me!"

"Daddy really needs to work now, so you finish your tea and go out to Hyzenthlay. I'll see you at breakfast."

"Kay."

* * *

Third Age of the Sun…

Ujjayi. Ananda. I bowed to the East to close my morning prayers. Last night yielded little sleep for me, for the winds brought uneasiness until third watch. The dreary morning weather did nothing to alleviate my exhaustion. Thick grey clouds filled the sky, masking the vibrant world in shade. I did not need to conjure breezes to warn me of the rainy near future. _El-ahrairah _send wet mornings to _Inle_.

Bombur handed out more bread and apples for breakfast, I munched on my bread as I re-packed my prayer mat and removed my oiled rain skin. Bilbo waited by the ponies when I arrived to help saddle them. He looked over my rain skin and sighed. "You do not have a rain skin," I hesitantly guessed. Bilbo loudly crunched into his breakfast, nodding dejectedly. There was nothing to be done; I didn't have a spare. "Do you have extra clothing?"

Bilbo finished chewing his mouthful, "Just a spare shirt." I told him to store his blanket and spare shirt tightly in his pack, to keep the coming rain out. He could change into his spare shirt and wrap in his blanket once the rain stopped. His current clothing would need to be dried and aired out when we stopped. Fili and Kili arrived, their happy moods impervious to sleep loss or bad weather. We all set about readying the ponies, which reacted to the coming rain with increased stubbornness. The rest of the company sluggishly trickled in, most with bleary eyes and foul moods.

Bifur arrived with his cousins and acted more animated today. His movements were deliberate and his head bobbled as he muttered. I walked over to greet him, excited that the evening stories brought Bifur alertness. Just as I neared, Bofur stepped in front of me. "Good morning lass," he would not let me move past.

"Good morning Mister Bofur," I automatically replied, confused by his actions. Bofur continued to block me. Had I stumbled on a dwarf morning ritual to annoy passers-by? I spoke slowly, "I just wanted to ask if Bifur would not mind riding with m-."

Bofur interrupted me, "Very kind of you lass, but he's riding with me today. Cousinly love and all that." Bofur's smile was decidedly odd, for it did not reach his dark eyes. Bifur suddenly exploded into harsh and angry Khuzdul. I flinched and stepped back, emotion flashed in Bofur's eyes. The stories must have done this.

I fixed my features to a neutral expression and bowed, "I did not mean to give offense." I immediately relocated myself back to my pony and mounted up. The column formed, but I was too lost in my thoughts to pay much attention. Previous experience taught me my pony could handle traveling without direction; sure enough, she merged into the column without issue. Doubt and guilt flooded my mind. Reflection on last night was fruitless; no one hinted then that Bifur would react this badly to my attempt to communicate. I picked absently at the carvings in my staff.

"Lady Isabeau?" I snapped to attention to find Lord Balin, my column partner, peering at me from under his cloak hood.

"Lord Balin," I tugged to make sure my veil and the hood of my rain skin covered my hair. A member of the "inner circle" rode next to me, a perfect opportunity to learn what the hidden text contained, but I wanted… It doesn't matter. I can never get back what I truly want. I smiled politely, "Looks like rain."

Lord Balin did not answer right away, "Yes it does. Gandalf says it will be quite a downpour." We rode on in silence, we masters of polite conversation. It was ten minutes before Lord Balin commented, "You've yet to mention how you and he know each other."

"How does anyone meet our wizard?" I shifted in my saddle.

Fili spoke up behind me; "He served as an advisor to your people?"

I put my rain skin hood down to look back, "He did Mister Fili, but I never met him in that capacity. He served as a royal advisor until the reign of Queen Marne II. Queen Marne II began her reign forty years before my birth."

Kili guessed, "You met him on the road."

"Yes and no Mister Kili. I met him while wandering, though not on any road," I was fairly sure a dungeon did not count as road.

"A riddle then," Kili scratched at his stubble.

Lord Balin shook his head and ended the guessing; "I think it's safe to assume, given Lady Isabeau's proclivity to help others in their quests, that they met while adventuring."

Fili chuckled, "What Lady Isabeau. You met Gandalf when he saved you from an orc pack?"

It just slipped out, "The other way round actually." Sweet merciful _Eru_, he was going to turn me into a toad. Fili and Kili erupted with laughter at Lord Balin's look of surprise. Nori and Ori looked back at us with interest. It would be all over the company by mid-day. It was in for copper, in for gold time. Gandalf rode with Thorin near the head of the column, I was probably a safe distance from him to tell the story… Assuming he needed to aim the spell at me to turn me into something unnatural.

"You saved him! Like he's the princess and you're the brave knight, come to rescue him from the tower," Kili found his imagined scenario extremely funny. Lord Balin sighed and shot an irritated glare back at the pair. A soft thumping noise resulted in Kili's silence. This story wasn't going to help my foul mood, but leaving it alone was out of the question.

"After the fall of my people, I wandered the wilds. The floating isles were all I knew of the world at the time, so when I came to Arda I picked a direction and travelled it. Years later, I ended up in the Northwest, in the lands of Arnor. Arnor was a terribly cold and strange place, home to men, elves, and dark creatures. War left the kingdom savaged and overrun with orcs and goblins. Yet the people of Arnor clung to their homes with such ferocity that hope flickered in the cold darkness, hope to regain and rebuild. It was on the outskirts of a nameless village that I first heard of the 'storm crow' wizard. The villagers said he'd gone to exterminate a raiding orc pack in the area seven days past, but he was two days late for his return." A drizzle fell on us, I lifted my rain skin hood. I continued, "The villagers had no men to spare to go after him, for the men either lay dead or stood guard. I traded my services as a healer for supplies over two days, then I went looking for the 'storm crow' wizard. It took three days to find the downwind of the pack and two more to catch up to them."

My grip tightened on my staff, "The orcs kept him in a crude dungeon, little more than a wooden cage. They numbered ten, each viler in appearance than the last. They complained of how many comrades they had lost to the wizard and how many days it took them to flush him out of his defensive position. One said they should execute him; another that they should eat him, but the winning idea was that they should do both. Burn him at the stake and eat the cooked remains." Fili said something in Khuzdul, Lord Balin and the other listening dwarves murmured in agreement.

I cleared my throat, "I got Gandalf's attention. Even in a cage, as the orcs prepared a fire pit, he tried to send me away. I refused and waited for the opportunity to get close. It presented itself when the orcs began to argue as to who would get to light the fire. When I spoke to him, Gandalf again tried to send me away. I told him a better use of time would be to find a means of escape. It was clear that I couldn't break him out, for the orcs were too many to overcome in close range combat. All that time would allow us was Gandalf's hushed order to 'follow his lead', because the orcs did not argue for long. I returned to my hiding place. Gandalf shouted to the orcs, 'At least let me fight a duel and die in battle.' One of the orcs shouted back, 'You're as useless as a cunny without your light stick!' There I saw Gandalf's staff on the growing pile of wood for the fire. Then Gandalf shouted, 'Release me and I will spare your lives from the eagles' vengeance.'" Fili and Lord Balin made sounds of understanding. Kili shushed them.

I nodded, "Gandalf laid out my tasks. I conjured a wind to rustle the trees opposite the fire pit. They cracked and groaned as if announcing a great beast, allowing me to retrieve the staff while the orcs stared and chattered in fear. I retreated to beyond the fire's glow. Next I conjured another wind then, one that swirled the snow from the ground and screamed into it an eagle cry. From shadow to shadow I went, conjuring swirling winds and screaming eagle cries. The orcs readied for battle around the lit fire pit, their faces turned upwards to the skies. They did not see me returning Gandalf's staff to him or cutting the ropes that bound him until it was too late. Gandalf cast the fire pit to explode, setting the ten surrounding orcs aflame. It was easy to finish the surviving few and with that the orc pack was no more." The dwarves rode in silence for a spell, absorbing the tale.

Lord Balin asked softly, "How old were you, Lady Isabeau?"

I smiled confidently at him, "Oh, old enough for such reckless heroism." Barely more than a child, with two frightened younger sisters in tow.

Kili leaned forward in his saddle, "What possessed you to follow after Gandalf?" Desperation. Obsession. Because his name was the last thing my mother said to me. Because he was supposed to save us.

"Wizards have the best hats, Mister Kili. I thought he'd killed the orcs and just moved on to another village. I wanted to see if he had one for sale," a tremendous downpour started, I had to shout back to him.

"A hat! You went through all that for a hat," Nori turned round in his saddle to appraise me.

I pointed to the front of the column, to the hat in question, "Mister Nori, that hat is a masterpiece. Have you ever noticed that it's never soggy from rain, never wrinkled from travel, and has not once fallen or blown off his head? It's also grey, which can pair with any outfit given the right accessories." Nori snorted and turned back round, shaking his head in a very male 'huh, women' fashion. Fili and Kili shook their heads as well and began to talk amongst themselves. Only Lord Balin remained quiet, his kind eyes assessing me. I tugged on my veil and hood. The deafening rain was a welcomed excuse to ride on in silence.

The skies cleared hours later, Thorin called for the party to stop and air out the riding equipment to prevent rubbing the ponies' flanks raw. Everyone was glad for the break. Gloin built several small fires to aid drying out the blankets. I made myself useful by conjuring bursts of air to remove excess water from the soaked fabric. Reluctantly, a mute Gloin worked with me for an hour to quickly set the horse blankets to dry. A very red faced Bilbo wrapped in his sleeping blanket handed me his trousers to dry, I dried them out away from the others and returned them to him only slightly damp. Bombur passed out lunch, more tomato and cheese sandwiches.

I watched Bofur help Bifur settle down to eat lunch. Bifur seemed in a better mood, or at the very least he did not scream in Khuzdul at anyone. I turned away as Bofur stood. Bilbo and I sat away from the dwarves.

"Do you know Radagast?" Bilbo inquired.

I shook my head, "What's a radagast?"

"A wizard apparently, Gandalf told me about him. Gentle soul. Likes to live with the animals…" Bilbo waited expectantly. I shrugged my shoulders to show I still had no idea who he spoke of. He nodded towards the dwarves, "I think there is something odd about my being here." I'd just bitten into my lunch, so I raised my eyebrows at Bilbo. Bilbo tried to start his point a few times, finally settling on, "You and Gandalf wield magic. The dwarves wield proper weapons. I wield," Bilbo sullenly scrutinized his pants, "damp trousers. I mean… I'm not prepared for rain, what good could I do against a single orc, let alone ten!" I tugged at my veil; ten seemed a very specific number given this morning's conversation. Bilbo sat right behind Gandalf in the column, if the story made it to him… I glanced nervously towards the "inner circle"; Gandalf sat with his back to me. I interpreted that as a stay of execution. Bilbo dug his heel into the wet ground. I finished my lunch, then pursed my lips in thought.

"You're right, you wouldn't survive a fight with ten orcs," Bilbo stared at me; I guess he wanted me to tell him the opposite. "Out of everyone here, you and I are the weakest warriors. Not only that, we are readily identified through sight alone as such. Any enemy who picks his targets will pick us first, because you're the smallest and I'm 'a girl'. You look like you could only punch dough to bake bread and anyone would assume I travel with this company to service one or more of them. We look positively useless," at my words, Bilbo's shoulders slumped in defeat. "That is what gives us a distinct advantage over everyone else," I finished, my eyes crinkled in delight.

Bilbo frowned and rotated his hands one over the other, "Say that all again, I think I missed an important bit." I laughed and stood in front of him with my staff.

"I said we look like the weakest, that is undeniable. That means no enemy would suspect we could fight back, which gives us a permanent advantage of surprise over attackers," I leaned on my staff. I pointed to Dwalin, "Take Mister Dwalin here. He looks like a bruiser, a veteran warrior, someone astute in involuntary dentistry - capable of relocating your teeth with one punch. His skill is entirely required by his appearance. He wouldn't be an effective warrior if he were weaker than he looked." I pointed to Kili and Fili next, "Misters Kili and Fili don't look as tough as Mister Dwalin, but they move as trained warriors and wield worn, but well cared for equipment. Their youth is strength as well, for they are agile and an enemy could mistake youth for inexperience. Do you understand Mister Bilbo?"

Bilbo rubbed his forehead, "You're saying that the fact that I look useless is an advantage. How could that be… I'm not more dangerous than I look." _Eru _preserve us, Bilbo could cling to pessimism like a fly to sugar.

"Surprise is a powerful weapon in a fight. You could slay an enemy while he is stunned or take advantage of an opponent's relaxed guard. Foes will not try hard to kill you, because they expect you to go down without a fight. Couple surprise with your talent for stealth and I say you will make a decent warrior, Mister Bilbo," I offered. Bilbo was not convinced. I upped the ante; "I could even train you in some basics."

Biblo fiddled with his vest pockets, "Lady Isabeau. I know there is sense to what you're saying, but…" Bilbo looked away from me, "I'm not impressive like… Gandalf can…" Disappointment filled me, but I kept my features politely neutral.

"I will speak to Lord Thorin or Mister Dwalin about training you," I did not look at Bilbo. Thorin called an end to the break, judging the riding equipment to be dry enough. I re-saddled my pony and mounted up. _El-ahrairah _send this day to _Inle_. The column formed once more. My wonderful pony managed to out-maneuver Gandalf. He aimed to swap places with Lord Balin, but my pony got me to the front of the column first. Lord Balin simply moved to my previous spot in the column. That meant, until the company camped for the night, I got to ride opposite Thorin and Gandalf got to glare daggers at the back of my head.

Thorin said nothing against the sudden change in riding partner, the small smirk beneath his beard signaled his amusement. Once the company achieved a decent pace he commented, "You'll need to ride farther than the Iron Hills to escape that temper."

I winced, "I'm sure it will not be that bad. What's a light throttling between friends?" I attempted a casual air, "What version did the front of the column hear, Lord Thorin?"

"That you, Lady Isabeau, rode an eagle into battle naked, the blood of your fallen enemies smeared across your skin, and that Gandalf wore a pink dress," Thorin cocked an eyebrow at me. _El-ahrairah _play no tricks; I'd forgotten Bofur and Nori rode between Gandalf and me in the column today. I tugged at my veil as my face heated. That would be another reason for Gandalf to hex me.

I cleared my throat, "Some aspects of the version you heard are impressively fabricated." Thorin's secret smirk peeked out again. Now seemed a very good time for a subject change, "Lord Thorin, Bilbo has expressed a desire for basic training."

Thorin's face became stern, "Has he now."

I hesitantly continued, "Yes. I've explained to him that he offers a distinct advantage to the company," Thorin interrupted me.

Disapproval colored his tone, "I would not name him a distinct advantage. You should not falsely raise his expectations."

I did not waiver, "The only act I committed was to make him aware of his own weaknesses and strengths. The fact that most here underestimate his abilities defends my point. No one would expect anything from him in a fight. He will prove useful in stealth fighting, if he receives training in precision takedowns." Avia always trained such fighters to aid in battle.

"Bilbo is not my responsibility nor the responsibility of any one here. The best action he can take in battle is to stay out of it," Thorin used his 'I'm done talking about this' voice.

I used my 'You are not the king of me' voice, "I do not believe he knows how to do that. Warriors know to expect the flow of battle from terrain and surrounding circumstances. What if Bilbo tries to stay out of battle, only to plant himself in a choke point or kill box?" Both would present themselves as ideal cramped hiding spots, yet would have him underfoot or indefensible. Thorin did not strike me as a being willing to sacrifice the helpless and Bilbo stuck in a choke point or kill box would be extremely helpless. "Lord Thorin, all he needs is some basic training in mobility and tactics," I worked to make the request sound sensible instead of pleading.

"Why mention this to me? You claimed ability in scouting and tactics," Thorin kept his eyes scanning the path ahead of us.

Bilbo doesn't want everyone to see him learning from the female. I kept my thoughts private behind a polite smile, "Bilbo wants to learn from Mister Dwalin, who seems the most seasoned among us. Bilbo would graciously learn from you as well, especially after Lord Balin's testimony about your skill in battle last night." Thorin glanced at me, his mouth set in a grim line. I wondered if he guessed the real, less flattering reason.

"I shall consider it," the 'I'm done with this' voice was back. I nodded in thanks. Awkward silence followed…

The landscape around us, brightened by the recent rain, proved a welcome distraction. The lack of exchange between Thorin and I was relaxing, for the first time today outside my prayers I could just Isabeau and not "Lady Isabeau". I sat back in my saddle and smiled into the breeze and sun. It was a good day for flying. The blue sky stretched over the green of the land, like two lovers blissful in their afterglow. White fluffy clouds floated by, content to provide a passing shade. Birds flew with important missions in mind, to collect worms stranded above ground. My bay-colored pony even wandered a bit! I was so proud. She tossed her head and stretched out her neck, then tried for a full body shiver. I scratched her behind her ears, giggling at her return to proper pony behavior. Woops! Probably not supposed to giggle near Thorin. Yep, he's trying not to stare at me, with his judge face… Face of judgment! I snickered and concentrated on not looking at him. The freedom of the front of the column was apparently too much, I was mad from the release. I reigned in my regained rapture as best as I could.

"Do all Avia react as you do, flitting between affects?" Thorin did not sound like he approved.

"Do all dwarves react to circumstances as you do Lord Thorin?" I raised an eyebrow to him. "Could you summarize the entirety of your people based on the mannerisms of a single dwarf? That seems like a lot of pressure to place on a person."

Thorin rolled his shoulders back to stretch them, "I personally know nothing of your people. You are not how I imagined a wind walker to be, based on the stories of my grandfather."

"What did you imagine a wind walker to be like?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Thorin collected his thoughts for a moment, "A disciplined sect of warriors capable of commanding the forces of nature. Stoic."

"Male," I added.

Thorin consented, "Yes."

"And you end up with a dark-skinned female with the proclivity towards sudden bursts of good cheer," I remained dedicated to my good mood. "You must write someone to complain, perhaps there is a return policy," I smirked at him so he would take my words as the intended joke. Thorin's secret smirk returned, as he looked me over.

"You can recite ancient treaties verbatim, speak as a seasoned warrior does, and do not complain about the pace or the life on the road," Thorin returned to surveying the road, "I do not judge you to be flawed, simply because you do not fulfill a childhood daydream."

I should not feel so pleased, it was not a real compliment; "My father regaled me with stories of your people."

"And are my people all that you expected?" Thorin asked.

My hand curled around my pendant, "Father told me Dwarves are to the earth as Avia are to the air. Air moves through all living beings, it connects them. Air is elusive, free flowing, and always looking for a way to surpass an obstacle. Air can be still or like the terrifying hurricane. Earth, however, is what all livings things are born from. Earth is foundational, steadfast, and always looking for a way to overcome an obstacle. Earth can majestically build as the mountain or destroy like an earthquake. Air and earth are opposite elements to each other, yet one could not exist without the other. Their approach and natures are opposite, yet both share a similar vital task in the creation of life. It is in this way that Dwarves are simultaneously the same and different to the Avia." My pony's misstep on the road jerked me from my ramblings. I released my pendant and cleared my throat, "I'm sure you get the idea Lord Thorin." I tugged at my veil. Thorin mused over my rambles.

"Your father was an intelligent man to view people as avatars of the elements," Thorin spoke deferentially.

"I know he wished to impart wisdom, but I cannot deny that my child daydreams were far more fanciful," fondness for my father swelled within me, "I imagined a disciplined sect of warriors capable of commanding the forces of nature. Fierce, yet warm."

"Male," Thorin added. I wanted to make a face at him, but that was not how a lady acted with a lord.

"Actually no. Avia do not divide labor according to gender, but by skill. I do not find the idea of a female Dwarven warrior against my experience. I cannot say I have met one, but I assume they are out there somewhere," Thorin's snort at the suggestion of female Dwarven warriors did not fill me with confidence that I would see one. He did not comment further and I did not want to pursue the argument right now. "Though I must confess, in my wildest childhood dream I never properly imagined the grand complexity of beard styles and fashions," Thorin shook his head at my admission with an amused air.

"All the invisible dwarves attending tea with Lady Isabeau were clean shaven?" I had the suspicion that Thorin was teasing me.

"No, Lord Thorin, we were all too busy slaying dragons together," my hand curled back around my pendent. Thorin nodded and went back to scanning the horizon.

We returned to just existing beside each other. I decided that 'front of the column' Thorin was a more agreeable dwarf than 'inner circle' Thorin, but that would not spare him from his inky future punishment. The day remained sunny and pleasant, as did I. I was still grateful when Thorin called for camp as we neared an abandoned farmhouse in the shadow of the foothills.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: This is my first story and first writing attempt in quite some time. I have put everything through Word for spell and grammar check, but I am sure horrible catastrophes of grammar abound. Several works influenced the imagining of my OC, so I most certainly do not lay claim to anything you recognize in dialogue or plot. I would love reviews. _

_Thanks __**KitWolfren**__ for favoring and following my story. _

_Thanks __**EvilPurpleCookiePenkeyMongui n **__for favoriting my story. _

_Thanks __**luna153 **__for the review. I'm putting a ton of planning into Gandalf's revenge. I'm aiming for beautifully simplistic and timeless – the LBD of pranks. _

_Thank you __**x-Midnight-Writer-x **__for your tremendous support! I'm ecstatic that you're enjoying my story. :D_

_Thank you to the +400 viewers, sorry it took me so long to update. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Tolkien's Auxiliary work, Watership Down, Avatar the Last Airbender, or Peter Pan. I am not making money off this. I play with the ideas, characters, and plots found in those works. I also cannot emphasize enough that the story of Death and the prince is a paraphrased version of the chapter "The Story of El-ahrairah and the Black Rabbit of Inle" from __Watership Down__ – read it, because it's a wonderful book and universe. I did not write the story of Death and the prince, beyond replacing a few words here and there and adapting it to fit my narrative. _

_This chapter is rated M for gore, cursing, and spooky stories. _

**Chapter 7**

Third Age of the Sun…

Busy, please _Eru_ above keep me incredibly busy. I was off my pony the second Thorin called to make camp, snatching Thorin's reins immediately after his dismount. Thorin's eyebrows could not decide whether to reside up near his hairline or furrow. "What in Durin's name," Thorin took a moment before a minor epiphany cleared his confusion. A lesser-bred male would have rolled his eyes; Thorin muttered something in Khuzdul before shouting orders to the others. My and Thorin's ponies in hand, my sudden obsession to collect the beasts over came common sense.

"We haven't even gotten off yet!" Dwalin bellowed his protest, while Bilbo squeaked and clutched at his saddle horn. They dismounted while I shifted my weight ceaselessly between my feet. It's very hard to simultaneously gage the distance between a certain greatly irked wizard and my (mainly undeserving) self and to not look like I was trying to. Bombur and Oin rode purposefully away from me to avoid Dwalin and Bilbo's inconvenience. Bofur and Bifur rode up in the column. Bifur, possessing a more relaxed attitude, slid off his pony and walked off to stretch his legs. I gathered Bifur's reins; thankful I avoided upsetting him in my rush. I bumped into Bofur when I turned to face him; he took the opportunity to take Bifur's pony.

"You can't handle six ponies and you're staff," Bofur stared over my head at something behind me, "Shall we?" Bofur led his two ponies into a small clearing beside a run-down stone hutch a stone's throw away from the old farmhouse. I was hot on his heels, managing to guide my ponies and keep hold of my staff. We set our personal items down near an old fence. I soon had a wall of cute innocent fluffy ponies formed around me. Fili and Kili joined us with more ponies, sniggering as they went about their chores. "He can't possibly be that mad lass, there's no need to hide," Bofur's stupid smirk lit up his stupid dark eyes.

The ponies jostled and nudged me when I tried to take a stand, "Bofur! I am not hiding." Was that pointy grey hat coming closer? I grabbed Bofur's shoulders, spun him round, and bravely stooped down behind him.

"Greetings Bofur, is Lady Isabeau available? There are matters I would like to," Gandalf thought for a second, "discuss with her."

Bofur stepped traitorously to the side, "I believe so Mr. Gandalf." I straightened slowly and tugged at my veil.

Big smile and avoid staring into the icy pools of vengeance, "Gandalf! So nice to see you, unfortunately I have to help care for the ponies right now."

Kili cheerfully interrupted my frantic excuse crafting, "Oh don't worry Lady Isabeau. Mister Fili and I can handle things from here."

Fili gleefully collaborated with Kili, "That's right Mister Kili. Let me take your horse, Mister Gandalf. You're free to go with Mister Gandalf, Lady Isabeau, to discuss those vital matters."

Gandalf slowly grinned, like the tiger to the priest, "Excellent. This won't take long." He reached out to gently clasp my shoulder. Yea, though I travel to the sea, in the shadow of _Inle_, I will not fear death a la serious wizardly ire! I gulped and squeezed my eyes shut, ready to march towards whatever quiet spot Gandalf designated for scolding my ears off, reattaching them, then scolding them off again. Nothing happened. Cautiously I peeked up at him. Gandalf focused on the ruins of the stone hutch, concern blooming in his blue eyes. He released me to stand and survey the rest of the old farm, "A farmer and his family lived here." He was lost to memory and worry; I kept very still to avoid regaining his attention. Gandalf spun on his heel and briskly made his way to Thorin, who set up the inner circle under the overgrown farmhouse roof.

Oh sweet _Eru_ be praised! I relaxed and let out a long held breath… now to deal with my oh-so helpful company mates. I twisted round to find Bofur, Kili, and Fili barely containing their mirth at my expense. They quickly corrected their faces to ones of angelic innocence. Bofur tempted fate first by nearing me, "I'd say that went well." He winked at me, my eyes narrowed at him.

"Other-worldly powers aside, Gandalf doesn't hold a candle to Uncle's temper," Kili hefted the saddle off my pony.

"He'd have us training till our limbs fall off," Fili sorted the riding equipment to dry out along an old fence.

I scoffed… in a lady-like manner, "Well when you're Uncle shows up to influence my fate, I'll worry about tweaking his nose." This just sent Fili and Kili into another sniggering fit.

"We'll be sure to tell him, next we see him," Fili shook his head in amusement. Fili and Kili found the strangest things amusing. I tugged at my veil and set myself to honestly working to unpack the ponies.

Bofur intercepted me as I went to start on Dwalin's pony, "Let me get that lass." Bofur started unbuckling Dwalin's pack and saddle. Maybe Dwalin's pony was temperamental? I went to unpack Bilbo's pony. Bofur hurriedly set aside Dwalin's pack and saddle, "Here you go," Bofur carefully batted my hands out of the way to start unpacking Bilbo's pony. Suspicious… I deliberately turned to Bofur's pony. Wait for it… I heard Bofur begin to follow.

I whirled round, "Mister Bofur, I am quite capable of unpacking a pony."

Bofur winced and rubbed the back of his neck, "Aye. I know you can, I'm just lending a helping hand." I crossed my arms under my chest and waited for a better explanation. Bofur sighed, but shouting interrupted him.

"To seek the company of the only one around here who has any sense," Gandalf was fit to explode. I hustled to be clear of the ponies for a better view, what on Arda set him off like that? Me?

Bilbo called after him, "And who's that?"

"Myself, Mister Baggins!" Gandalf roared. I attempted to intercede, but Gandalf's icy glare froze me to stand still. "I've had enough of this company for one day," he growled and promptly stomped off. Gulp. The last time Gandalf lost his temper like that… I swallowed my sudden nausea and squashed that memory.

"Come on Bombur, we're hungry," Thorin called from the farmhouse, clearly put out. Bombur stood holding the stew pot, spinning round and round. He stopped when his eyes caught me. His exasperated gesturing clued me in; I shirked my water fetching duties with my wizard avoidance tactic.

"_El-ahrairah _witness, the sun should set faster!" I rushed to grab my staff. Bofur made to come with me. I put an end to that, as kindly as I could. "Mister Bofur," I paused to plan my words, "I do not know what this," I gestured to Dwalin's, Bilbo's, and his ponies, "is, but I can assure you I do not need assistance to fetch the water. I am a member of this company and I must pull an equal weight." A suitable justification to me, but I learned Dwarven culture (so far) was not so egalitarian. Bofur crossed his arms over his chest. He looked conflicted. Reinforcement seemed necessary, "I am not ungrateful for the help, but I do not see another company member helping another as you helped me just now… Hard work is not an unprecedented occurrence in my life…" Ugh, I was mucking this up and I needed to see to my chore.

Bofur, thankfully, spared me from continuing, "I was underfoot, lass. I'll see to the ponies with the lads." My relieved smile, beckoned a small one in return from Bofur. Bombur's exaggerated throat clear put a quicker pace to my retrieval of the stew pot. Bilbo materialized from behind Bombur, ready to aid me.

I was not having that from anyone today, "I can manage by my lonesome, thank you Mister Bilbo." Bilbo's shocked expression made me feel a bit guilty, yet my recollection of his preference for a male combat tutor alleviated the guilt. Near the edge of camp I conjured breezes to scout for water, unfortunately my frustrated state resulted in stronger forces than intended. The trees swayed, loose articles floated a small way, and the growing cooking fire promptly died. Gloin's angry cursing filled the camp. I followed a Northern breeze to water, red-faced from the embarrassment of my miscalculation.

I collected the water from an overgrown well; thankfully the rope and bucket still possessed their integrity. To carry the weight of the stew pot I thread my staff through the handle, so I could hold the pot in front of me and eliminate the chance of banging my knees against the pot when I walked. The walk back to camp was a struggle, but I managed to waddle back with the filled stew pot just fine... I sloshed the water a few times down my side, but the water level was still sufficient for stew. Bombur wasn't as pleased as I was about my independent achievement. He grumbled under his breath about delayed supper and shooed me from the cooking area with his ladle. I wiped off my hands on the dry side of my _kameez_, feeling warmed up for my evening prayers. Fili, Kili, and Bofur waved me off from returning to help with the ponies. "Almost finished anyway," Kili called to me. I retrieved my prayer mat and looked for a private spot.

Riding for three full days was taking its toll. My legs burned and my arms quivered during my prayer movements. I held each pose a few breaths longer to properly stretch and work each muscle group. Unsurprisingly, I couldn't clear my mind tonight. Errant thoughts haunted me… Bifur's morning temper… Bilbo's shame about learning to fight from me… Bofur's oddness… the possibility that Gandalf lurked in the shadows to enact his revenge… the orc pack from last night… the fact that that rock looked like… Whew… not Gandalf… _El-ahrairah _witness this wasn't as fulfilling as I needed it to be. I decided to do additional stretching forms. I lingered in my favorite stretching form, _ustrasana_ – the camel pose. My spine creaked as I leant back further into the pose, resting my hands on my heels and thrusting my heart center towards the sky. I tilted my head back, exposing my throat towards the sky. My hair felt loose; I needed to re-braid it soon… A deep _ujjayi_ informed me that I should also bathe soon. I ended in child's pose, _balasana_. _El-ahrairah _witness, I was exhausted from the day. Prayer mat rolled up, check. Re-veiled, check.

Once again, the company settled into the groups for the evening during my absence. Fili, Kili, and Bofur were almost finished with the ponies. Dori, Nori, and Ori sat with Oin and Gloin near the farmhouse foundations; Nori had a game of wicked grace going. Dwalin and Lord Balin smoked and cared for their equipment a small way from the farmhouse. The smoke rings floating through the farmhouse roof meant that Thorin was enjoying solitude for now, probably to cool off from earlier. Bifur sat watching the cooking fire, but his hands worked to polish the glaive across his lap. Bilbo sat to Bifur's right, smoking and sulking. Gandalf hadn't returned, but I wasn't shocked. His temper could be likened to a brushfire, the only thing to do was let it run it's course and keep people out of it's way.

Solitude sounded lovely. I stored my prayer mat and extracted my sleeping blanket from my pack. The spot I chose was close to the cooking fire - opposite from Bifur and Bilbo, with Bombur in between us. Wrapped up in my blanket, wonderfully stretched and worked by my prayers, warmed by the fire, staff in hand, listening to the comfortable chatter of the others… A large warm hand shook me awake. "Whazzat?" Sleep weighed down my eyelids.

"Stew's ready lass," Bofur spoke with a smile in his voice. Bleary eyed, I sat up and rubbed at my face. I must have fallen asleep for at least an hour. Bofur handed me a wooden bowl steaming with delectable stew. I nodded my thanks to him. Essentially everyone gathered round the stew pot for dinner, most tucking into dinner already. I needed to feel more awake before I ate, stew stains on my clothes or blanket would not be easily rectified, so I placed my bowl on the ground in front of me. Bofur sat himself down on my right. He gestured to my bowl, "Aren't you going to eat?"

"Everything is a bit too fuzzy for stew, Mister Bofur," I rubbed at my eyes again. Bofur chuckled at my grogginess and made a peculiar gesture with his hands. A water skin appeared in front of my nose, held out by Bifur who sat to my left. "Oh! Thank you Mister Bifur," I accepted the skin and took a long draw. A small splash of water in my palm let my wash my face and hands; I dried both with one end of my veil, and then tugged it back into place. I handed the skin back to Bifur, who passed it round to the others. A clean face helped snap me out of my sleepy stupor. I shrugged off my blanket and reclaimed my stew bowl. Yum! I swallowed my mouthful, "Mister Bombur is very good." Bofur nodded, until he could navigate his tongue round his own mouthful of stew.

"Best chef I know," Bofur wiped his mouth off on his coat sleeve. "We were hoping you had another story to tell," Bofur nodded past me to indicate at least Bifur and he shared this hope. I looked at Bifur; he steadily consumed his dinner, but his far-away eyes met mine. Wouldn't it just upset him? Bifur grunted something in Khuzdul at me. Bofur translated, "He says don't shrink away from bloody or scary tales." I guess the threat of being eaten was child stuff to my Dwarven audience.

"Umm," I licked my lips and set my stew bowl in my lap. Almost the entire company was gathered round this time, no pressure. What would most of them want to hear? I took a deep breath and started, "When the world was young, there came a day when _El-ahrairah_ became restless. His friends and family tried to distract him."

Ori interrupted me, "You've told this one."

I blinked a few times, "I'm sorry?"

Bofur patted me on the shoulder, "There's no need to apologize lass. You told this one last night, remember?"

_El-ahrairah _play no tricks, what are they talking about? I tugged on my veil, "I told the story of the tiger, the priest, and the prince last night."

Ori slurped his stew and nodded, "Bofur told it during the ride. You can tell us a different one."

"That is what I was doing, Mister Ori," I frowned in confusion. Ori argued back that it was the same story and moved to collect his journal to prove it was the same story, but Thorin spoke up to put a stop to it.

"Just let her speak it the way she wants," Thorin stared at Ori until the younger dwarf submitted. Thorin shook his head, and then looked at me.

I looked down into the fire to recollect my thoughts. Deep breath, "When the world was young, there came a day when _El-ahrairah_ became restless. His friends and family tried to distract him from his wanderlust, but nothing soothed the Avia prince. _El-ahrairah_ consulted his most trusted advisor, his bride _Vilthuril_. _Vilthuril_ was known across Arda for her beauty and wisdom, if anyone knew how to help _El-ahrairah_ it was her. She listened to _El-ahrairah_ speak with patience, for _El-ahrairah_ had many responsibilities and burdens on his shoulders. After_ El-ahrairah_ finished, _Vilthuril _sat in meditation for three days. Only _El-ahrairah_'s love for _Vilthuril_ kept him from interrupting her. His bride ended her meditation with a solution. She told _El-ahrairah_ to explore his kingdom and the lands surrounding. So began _El-ahrairah_'s wanderings." I paused for effect, everyone grew quiet, "This is the tale of one of _El-ahrairah_'s wanderings, that of Death and the prince."

I absent-mindedly gripped my pendant, "It took _El-ahrairah_ three days to notice his second shadow. Over fields and rocks, through rivers and forests he traveled; his own shadow grew and shrank with the sun's light, but this second shadow… this persistent darkness trailed and crept behind him unchanged. Always it remained an arm's length away, patiently waiting, until the fourth day, the day the second shadow tried to consume the Avia prince. _El-ahrairah_ woke on that morning from uneasy slumber to find the shadow slithering, ever so slowly, ever so silently, across the earth towards him.

Staring into the black, he saw them, blood eyes in the darkness. _El-ahrairah _screamed and fled. He flew over mountains and valleys. Closer it came. Over trees and grass he ran. It was less than a hand's width from him. To the sea he tore. Almost touching him now. Desperate to escape, _El-ahrairah _dove into the waves. Deeper and deeper he went, until he came upon a cave. Terrified to look behind him and running out of air, _El-ahrairah _swam into the darkness of the cave. His lungs burned and his body weakened, but _El-ahrairah _finally broke from the water and found himself in a vast cavern.

All was of stone: as if it were dug out of the rock by claws. Before him, waiting for him, was from whom he had fled. There were others in that cavern also –shadows without sound or smell, for Death is never lonely. Death spoke with the voice of water that falls into pools in echoing places in the dark, '_El-ahrairah_, why have you come here?'

'I have come, because you chase me,' whispered _El-ahrairah. _The air smelled as clean as rotted bones and in the dark _El-ahrairah_ could see Death's eyes, blood red with a light that gave no light.

'You are not welcomed as you are, _El-ahrairah_,' said Death, "You are alive.'

'I would leave your company in that state,' _El-ahrairah _shivered in the icy water. Death drew his claws along the floor.

'Bargains, bargains, _El-ahrairah_," Death said. 'There is not a day or a night but a woman offers her life for her children, or some honest soldier for his King's. Sometimes it is taken, sometimes it is not. But there is no bargain, for here what is is what must be.' _El-ahrairah _felt fear then, but his courage soon took hold and made way for cunning. Death, great and terrible in nature, would be bondable by oath as all creations of _Eru_ are. 'You are my guest, _El-ahrairah,_' said Death. 'Stay in my realm as long as you wish. You may sleep here. And you may eat here, and they are few indeed who can do as much.' Death twisted his head to the others, 'Let him eat.'

_El-ahrairah _knew that if he ate the food the others gave him, that he would never be able to leave and that would be the end to his tricks. The prince emerged cautiously from the freezing water, and huddled on the stone bank a few yards from Death. 'I will not eat,' his teeth chattered as he spoke.

'Then at least we must entertain you,' said Death, 'You must feel at home, _El-ahrairah_, and make yourself comfortable. Come; let us play a shell game.' _El-ahrairah _knew how to play the shell game; in fact he was the best among his people at it. Confidence hesitantly bloomed within the prince.

'If I win, Death, you must release me from your realm and swear to never again pursue me,' said the prince.

'I so swear,' replied Death. 'But if I win, _El-ahrairah, _you shall give me both of your feet and your nose.' _El-ahrairah _swallowed his fear and nodded his consent. The three shells and stone were brought and _El-ahrairah _sat down in the cold and the echoes to play against Death. Death revealed the stone under the middle shell, covered it, and began to weave the shells to and fro. Death showed never the least haste, yet he moved as the snow falls, swiftly without sound or sudden change. _El-ahrairah _clung to his wits, but there –in that dreadful place, with Death's red eyes upon him and the others who made no sound –his wits deserted him and his spirit waned. _El-ahrairah _pointed to the right most shell, but felt Death knew before the shell lifted –nothing. Death revealed the stone, beneath the middle shell. 'You can pay your stakes to the others, _El-ahrairah_," said Death, 'and they will show you where to sleep. I will return tomorrow and if you are still here, I will play you again.' Death bared his gruesome smile, 'You are free to leave the way you came whenever you wish.'

The others swarmed onto _El-ahrairah_. They dragged him deeper into the cavern, where they gnawed his feet and nose off him with mouths containing thousands of broken shards. _El-ahrairah _screamed."

"TROLLS!" Fili burst into the camp.

Thorin leapt to his feet, "Report!"

"Three of them, to the Southwest. They stole some of the ponies. Kili and I kept watch, while Bilbo tried to sneak past them to the ponies. Bilbo's in trouble!" Fili gripped his daggers tightly as he spoke. Bilbo! I did not even look for him when I woke. The Dwarves rose and readied for battle. Thorin barked orders to quickly set up a vanguard and two flanking units. I grabbed my staff and stood, waiting for my assignment.

Thorin turned to me, "You will find Gandalf." I opened my mouth to object, but Thorin cut me off, "You will find Gandalf and bring him to us. As you have yet to demonstrate your ability in battle, you will only get in the way of the others." Thorin's pale green eyes glowered into mine. Could I submit as a member of the company to the leader's orders? There was only one answer.

"It will be done," I bowed though my eyes never left his.

"Go," Thorin ordered. The Dwarves, armed for battle took their positions and went to meet the trolls in battle. I went to the Northeast corner of camp and summoned the winds. I knew what to sense for, it was the only way this task could be completed under the nearly impossible time limit. There! Old Toby leaf smoke to the East. _El-ahrairah _play no tricks and praise _Eru _for Gandalf's vice. I launched myself into the air and tore across the night sky, frantically following the fragrant airflow. It took me fifteen minutes to find Gandalf, who smoked while surveying the distant valley of the Burinen

Gandalf began to scold me, "Isabeau, how many times do I have to tell you."

I cut him off, "No time. Trolls Gandalf!"

He jumped to his feet, "The others?"

"Gone to face them. The trolls are three in number and have Bilbo," Gandalf cursed at the news. He made to start running. "I can get us back in a fraction of the time it would take to run," I held out my staff to Gandalf. Gandalf vacillated between rejecting and accepting my offer. "Gandalf!" I barked at him.

Gandalf shook himself and pushed my staff back at me, "Fly back and make yourself useful. You'll go faster with just your own weight. I won't be far behind." I turned to take off, but Gandalf caught my arm, "Remember. Trolls turn to stone in the daylight. If nothing else, remember that." I nodded.

"The trolls are to the Southwest of camp," I said. Gandalf released me and sprinted towards camp. I took to the air, careful to keep below the treetops. The airflow would give me away if I flew in too close, so I touched down at camp and stayed downwind of Southwest. The trees in the distance swayed and groaned violently, harsh snaps and cracks filled the air. A scream of absolute torment pierced the night. I gripped my staff tightly and headed towards it.

A growing fire lit up the trolls' camp, casting their hulking shadows through the trees. Blood pools coated the ground; blood spray speckled the surrounding trees. The trolls went about their business with oozing wounds that covered their bodies, to stupid to notice or care. The company lay captured and hogtied in burlap sacks on the edge of the camp, with full view of the cooking spit the apron garbed troll constructed. A much larger troll snapped the branches off the nearby trees, then splintered them into firewood. The last troll, cruel and dopey in appearance, hunkered down over the recent corpse of a pony. The Dwarves' equipment lay in a heap next to the fire, well out of my reach. To mask my smell, I hid behind the captured company. It would be at least one hour for Gandalf to reach the camp, if he ran full tilt the entire way. Sunrise wouldn't be for another eight hours! The rescue plan was entirely up to me… yay…

"Ugh, I hate stinky innards," the dopey one prodded at the pony guts, wet squishes and soggy glops answered every jab. The aproned troll answered him.

"Shaddup! If I have to hear one more complaint from you, I'll bugger you with my fileting knife," the aproned troll spoke with a lisp. His grin at the completed spit informed me he'd recently lost a majority of his teeth. "Now get that nag sliced up. I want to sear it as an appetizer," drool dribbled down his chin at the thought. The dopey troll continued to stab at the entrails with a disgusted look. The aproned troll clobbered him for it.

"Leave off, Bert," the big'un groused, dumping an arm full of wood down by the fire. A pained rumbling came from the big'un, "Why can't we eat yet!"

"Cause I ain't finished preparing it yet," Bert tugged his apron strings out of a large wound in his side. He sucked his blood off his fingers, "You sure it's hot enough? They'll need to cook all the way through."

The big'un snarled, "Yeah it's bloody hot enough." He thumped a hand down onto the woodpile, "Plenty of wood and plenty of dried grass to keep it fed. At least one thing here is getting fed." Well that was one way to stall this party. I took a deep inhale and summoned a wind to blow the fire out. Only starlight and moonlight lit Bert and the big'un's shocked features.

Bert started a loud, slow, sarcastic applause, "That's lovely that is, Tom. This roaring marvel is the symbology of your expert." The dopey troll giggled hysterically and joined in the clapping. Tom growled and punched the dopey one in his face, a sickening crunch signaled a broken nose. Blood and snot spout from the dopey one's face, before the injured troll pressed a bit of fabric against it to stem the flow. Tom set himself to rebuilding the fire. It would take some time for the fire to grow hot enough to cook with. The Dwarves intensified their struggles in the dark, but to no avail. I had nothing to cut their bonds! I needed to try for the equipment pile.

I skirted round the edge of the troll camp, mindful to stay hidden behind trees. The pile was beside the woodpile, with Tom the troll focused on the woodpile I needed a distraction… I tried throwing a rock into the woods on the other side of camp. It clunked against a hollow tree, causing a loud thump! No one noticed, not even the Dwarves. Fine. I summoned a breeze to shake the trees on the other side of camp; they creaked and groaned as if to announce some great beast! Bupkis. Tom managed to light the fire, the dopey troll finally got around to gutting and slicing up the poor pony, and Bert complained about the weather. I blew the fire out again out of spite. Tom roared in frustration and beat the ground, "That's it! I say we just eat them." Oh shit.

Bert grew indignant about the implication of a wasted cooking spit, "After all the work I did constructing this! We do it my way." Tom grumbled and added more dried grass to the fire. Messing with the fire would no longer work. _El-ahrairah _witness, what am I supposed to do! Just going for the pile would be a fairly stupid method of suicide. Calm down, calm down. Breathe in… Breathe out… Clear your mind… I sat in my hiding place to meditate on an escape plan. It would still be an hour before the fire was hot enough. Bert planned to serve an appetizer, that's another half hour. I crossed my fingers that Bert was not into advanced prep of the main course. The company would be relatively safe for the time being - hogtied and watching their killers set the bloody table. Gandalf would be here soon.

No rescue plan came to fruition over the next hour. Sneaking Dwarves away one-by-one was risky to start with, but would be certain death to any remaining Dwarves in the camp should the trolls catch on. Destroying the spit would add support to the _Dwarves al dente_ troll plan. I couldn't exactly poison the food or drug the trolls. Three trolls were too much for me to handle in a straight up fight, not to mention the Dwarves might get trampled. Luring a troll away from the camp to ambush would be difficult and impractical; wind bending is not exactly a stealth fighting style in the middle of a dense forest with a target heavier than ten horses.

A dry hand covered my mouth to catch my surprised squeak. Gandalf crouched in front of me, panting with exhaustion and covered in sweat. He motioned for me to come away from the troll camp. I checked on the others, still all together and all in one piece. The trolls ripped into cooked pony flank. The dopey one wore the pony's decapitated head as a hat. I shuddered with disgust and quietly followed Gandalf.

"Where do we find ourselves?" Gandalf sat himself against a tree and wiped his brow.

"Three trolls. The biggest is Tom and is only concerned with feeding himself. Bert is the aproned one; he seems to maintain something akin to manners, which we might be able to exploit. Those two are the leaders of the three, though there is contention for who is in charge. The dopey one enjoys gore and is resentful of being ordered around by the other two. They don't seem to like each other that much, but they will work together," I kept looking back towards the troll camp. What if they started eating them while Gandalf and I plotted? "I blew out their cooking fire to buy us time, but I cannot do it again. They are set on roasting the Dwarves on a spit, but they could just as easily consume them raw," my stomach turned at the thought. "The equipment is all in a great pile in near the fire. I cannot reach it without a diversion," I stared hopefully at Gandalf. He must have a plan. He remained silent. "Gandalf, what are we going to do?" my urgency prompted a response.

"We must waste their time until sunrise. That is the only way to kill them all without risking the company," Gandalf tugged at his beard in thought.

Exasperated, I tugged at my veil, "It's six and one half hours till sunrise! How can we distract them for that long? They are too stupid and stubborn to distract them from eating."

Gandalf's eyes flashed. "That's it," he whispered intently. "We need them to argue about sustenance," Gandalf stared at me. A bright flash of insight hit me.

"We need a fairly stupid method of suicide," I whispered excitedly. Gandalf's bushy brow furrowed in confusion, but I spoke on. "I'll get them to argue, you just need to keep them going for as long as possible," I started for the troll camp.

Gandalf caught my arm. Concern colored his voice, "Isabeau, you cannot be foolish. They will kill you, if you give them the chance!"

I summoned my courage, "Then I will not give them that. You'll do more good from the shadows than I can." I steeled my face to a smile. This had to work… and… coffee colored skin and bright happy eyes … screaming… if I saved the others, it would not matter if I died. Gandalf nodded once and released me.

The trolls used splintered pony bones to pick their teeth. Bert belched and scratched his scabs, "What did I tell you? West nag is a perfect wet o-the appetite."

Tom stretched and cracked his back. He groused "It's food, better than nothing." The dopey troll played with the pony head, like a child with a puppet.

The dopey one mouthed the head along with his words, "Can we eat them now?" The pile of Dwarves struggled vigorously.

Bert picked his apron strings back out of his angry red wound, "Don't see why not. Fire's hot enough for them. Go pick out a couple to tie to the spit."

The dopey one replaced his head-hat and made to stand, a sadistic grin curled round his puffy broken nose. It was now or never.

"That's it. I give up, surrender, yield, capitulate, and submit!" I strode right into the light, tossing my staff to the ground before me. A thousand pins dropping would sound as an avalanche in the stunned silence. Dwarves and trolls gawked in shock at me. "There is no way in Arda to rescue you lot, so I quit and accept my fate with grace," I lowered my veil and stood akimbo facing the trolls. Tom, Bert, and Dopey exchanged befuddled glances.

"What are you doing?" Thorin roared and doubled his efforts to escape.

"Run, Lady. Don't do this!" Dori called desperately, straining against the ropes that bound him. Ori, sheltered behind him, began to weep. I witnessed the last shred of hope for rescue flicker and die in their eyes… Hold on lads, this is the rescue. Bifur screamed in rage and began to shake violently. Bofur's black eyes met mine, disbelief and horror filled them. The shaking ground jerked my attention to the trolls.

Tom stood before me, wielding a crude knife. I didn't even stand as tall as his knee. Tom jabbed the knife at me, I danced back into the firelight. He shouted down at me, "What are you?" I moved so he turned from the Dwarves and I ended up in the firelight between all three trolls.

"It's another Flurber Burberobbit," Bert guessed. I ducked beneath his grab.

"It didn't come out of me hooter," Dopey swung at me. His fist hit the ground behind me.

"I'm Avia!" I shouted, standing in full light of the fire. "Don't you see the ears?" I held back my dropping braids and pointed to my two pronged ears. This stumped the trolls.

"What's an Avia?" Dopey finally asked, scratching at his ass.

"Oh it's only the most delectable race ever to grace Arda. We're cursed with sweetness. Cook us and we overwhelm your tongue with the taste honey and cakes. We'll stick to the roof of your mouth and remain for days, enhancing every morsel that passes your lips to rival the finest of delicacies. We go with any meal and compliment any drink. I'm the best thing you'll ever eat and I'll be the one memory you'll cherish of utter culinary satisfaction," I spoke with longing and lamentation. The trolls slobbered with greed and desire. "I congratulate the lucky troll to eat me, for you will attain the pure happiness of paradise and forever be the envy of all trolls!" I pretended to swoon. Three giant hands reached for me, each blocking the next from grabbing me.

"I want it!" Dopey cried, frantic to reach me.

"I saw it first," Tom smacked Dopey.

"You savages won't appreciate it," great slops of drool exuded from Bert's toothless gob. They were going to rip me asunder!

"Gentlemen please," I hollered, "There's not enough of me to go around! Just pick one of you to eat me and be done with it." I tumbled from the swooping troll hands. The trolls started shoving and hitting each other, each screaming that I was their meal. I scrambled closer to the spit to avoid being trampled. Each troll dug his fingers into the open sores of another; each screeched in pain, each grew more frustrated and furious. I needed the fight to last, not escalate! I stood, gripping a leg of the spit for stability, and utilized my loudest and most authoritative voice, "THAT IS ENOUGH! I'VE HAD IT WITH THIS FOOLERY!" The trolls froze mid-pummeling. I continued, channeling every scolding I'd ever received in the entirety of my life, "Tom, you pull Bert's leg out of your mouth this instant! Bert, stop shoving that pony head down Dopey's throat right now! And Dopey," I pointed at Dopey.

"Will," Tom muttered.

I corrected myself, "And William, you get your fingers out of Bert's ribcage or so help me, you'll lose them!" Each troll, cowed from the natural reaction to the dominant motherly attitude I enacted and exploited, did as instructed. Bert sniffed and held his wounded side. Tom sulked. Dopey... William threw up the horse head and sat down cradling his tummy. I took an exaggerated breath, "Now you three are going to sit down and decided who is going to gobble me up in a fair and decent matter." The trolls looked at each other dumbfounded. I rolled my eyes impatiently, "You could start by asking me my name."

"We don't give two shits what your name is!" Tom snarled and went to reach for me.

I skirted round the fire, "Two points from Tom for rudeness!" Tom stopped short. Bert grabbed and slammed the enormous cooking ladle down behind me to trap me.

"What's your name then?" Bert dragged the ladle forward, catching me in it.

"Iforget," I replied promptly.

William snorted, "You don't even know your name?"

"That is my name. Iforget," I hurriedly continued before Bert or Tom could interrupt, "I'm the youngest of fourteen children. Every night my mom would calls us all in for supper. She'd call 'Fiphil, Sophia, Hazel, Vivian, Marcus, Damien, Joshua, Cory, Lily, Eliza, Helga, Jon, Jacob, and… I forget! Come to dinner.' See? She'd forget my name so often that Iforget became my name."

Tom growled, "You're lying."

"No I'm not! She'd call, 'Jacob, Jon, Helga, Eliza, Lily, Cory, Joshua, Damien, Marcus, Vivian, Hazel, Sophia, Fiphil, and… Iforget! Wash up for supper.' Then we'd all come," I made a show of calling all the names in one breath. William found it amusing and grabbed for the thrown up pony head.

"Hehe, do it again!" William shoved the pony head at me. I gaped in horror at the ruined head of my sweet pony. Digestive juices and bodily fluid coated her twisted screaming face. The dead eyes bulged out from the skull. I needed to vomit. With less enthusiasm I called my brothers and sisters names again, trying not to cry as William forced the head to mimic the call.

Tom spared me from repeating the performance, "Shuddup!" He smacked the head from William's grasp and grabbed me. Bert smacked Tom with the ladle to drop me. I landed hard next to the head. I scrambled backwards to the safety of the spit and fire.

"Okay, time to decide who will eat me," Courage, please _Eru_ I need to stay strong, "What if the oldest gets me?" Tom grinned viciously.

William groused, "No! He gets everything." Bert wasn't too keen on the idea either.

"I guess the oldest always gets the special treat. What if the youngest gets me?" Fear crept up my spine and a vision of William prodding my entrails plagued my thoughts. William nodded vigorously and giggled hysterically.

Bert slapped him, "No. He doesn't deserve it. Good-for-nothing little shit!" The trolls began to argue again. I let them, until the fight started.

"What about a small competition?" I hugged myself to keep from gagging at the stench of the head. The trolls thought this over.

"What kind of competition?" William inquired.

"How about the strongest troll gets me?" I suggested, at a loss for alternatives. How long had it been since I entered the troll camp? I cast a glance at the fire. It was hot enough to roast horseflesh; it was hot enough to roast me. That kind of heat required careful management of fuel. "You'll need more wood for the fire. Why not see who can uproot the most trees in an hour?" I feverishly prayed they'd agree. I watched as each troll calculated their odds in their heads… and on their fingers and toes. Each was grinning confidently. Tom snatched me up suddenly and stuffed me in a burlap sack. I was tossed to the Dwarf pile.

I landed on Nori, who attempted to cushion my fall. The trolls readied themselves. "Wait!" I cried. The trolls ignored me. "You should go one at a time, so you can be sure no one cheats!" The trolls initially ignored me again, but talk amongst themselves resulted in them heeding my advice. Apparently the only thing binding them in agreement was mutual paranoia and greed. That was it. Three more hours of wasted time was all I could buy us.

"Stupid woman, you've doomed us," Dwalin growled at me.

I growled back, "Are you being cooked or eaten right now? What else did you want me to do, Mister Dwalin?" What else could I have done? Was I too hasty in my decision to try to outsmart them? Would Gandalf be able to save us with magic? Tears of frustration came. Did I fail again? Coffee colored skin and bright happy… echoing screams… the bulging dead eyes of my pony. Please _Eru_, just once let me save them. I huddled up, details blurred around me.

A voice kept whispering to me, "Don't worry lass, Gandalf will come."

The hours crawled by and the Troll competition carried on. Tom went first, yanking six enormous trees from the ground. William went next, tearing ten medium-sized trees up. The trolls argued about that, settling that it should be two medium-sized trees to one of Tom's trees. Bert went last, cleverly ripping fourteen medium-sized trees from the earth. This prompted another argument amongst them, yet Bert won according to the rules Tom put in place to diminish William's score. My murderer would be a chef. The trolls restocked the fire in preparation for their feast.

William lumbered over, stinking from sweat and budding infection. He plucked up Nori, Bofur, Dwalin, Dori, Ori, Bifur, and Gloin. One by one, they were retied to the spit. I screamed along with the rest of the Dwarves, "Stop it! Leave them alone!" William was quick to threaten to tear off their heads to stop the racket. We all struggled in vain as the spit began to turn. Where was Gandalf? The dwarves on the spit cried out from the heat of the flames. I inhaled deeply to blow out the fire. Tom saw the trees rustle and shielded the fire just in time. I'd failed to blow the fire out, but I'd halved the heat of it. Unfortunately that didn't spare the roasting Dwarves from the plume of smoke from the extinguished half of the fire. They cursed and choked on the fumes. Tom turned the spit from his new position, while Bert sprinkled crumbled up plants on the Dwarves. Exhaustion set in, but I had to summon another wind to kill the fire.

Suddenly a voice rang out, "You are making a terrible mistake! I mean with the seasoning." Bilbo awkwardly rose from the pile behind me to his feet. He did manage to gain the troll's attention, though the spit still turned.

"What do you mean?" Bert asked.

"Have you smelt them? You'll need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up," Bilbo jerked his head towards the pile. Thorin named Bilbo a traitor and the other Dwarves tried to angrily kick at him. Bilbo hopped away from us.

Tom scoffed, "What do you know about cooking Dwarf?"

Bert, sensing a fellow food-lover, shushed Tom, "Shaddup, let the um… Flurber Burberobbit talk."

Bilbo nodded his thanks to Bert, "The secret to cooking Dwarf is…" Bilbo's eyes bulged in panic as he scrambled for something to tell them. Tom's impatience pushed Bilbo to continue, "I'm telling you! The secret is," Bilbo trailed off in thought. Everyone looked at him to finish, which he did with "to skin them first!" Cries of outrage filled the troll camp as the Dwarves promised retribution. My stomach twisted inside me as William reached gleefully for the skinning knife. Tom complained that Dwarf was fine raw. Bert fixed his beady eyes on me and cracked a toothless grin.

"There's something I don't have to slave over," Bert stalked towards me. I tried to push back and Kili, behind me, tried to hook his bound legs around me. Bert ripped me from the pile, dangling me upside down above his gaping mouth. His tongue extended to lick at me.

"Not that one! She's infected," Bilbo screamed. Bert and I shared a moment of shocked confusion. "She's got worms, in her tubes," Bilbo's face contorted in disgust. Bert immediately dropped me back onto the Dwarf pile. I was in too much pain from landing on Oin to react. Bilbo upped the ante, "In fact they all are. They are riddled with parasites. I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't!" Bilbo was the paragon of sensibility. An epiphany, Bilbo was a bloody genius! I began to writhe, as if overcome with horrendous pain. The Dwarves started loudly denying their fictional infections, until Thorin caught on. He kicked some sense into Kili and Oin, who paused a moment before crying out about their record breaking infections. Everyone joined in.

Tom, at the end of his patience, stepped away from the spit and went to stab Bilbo through the chest with his crude dagger. Bilbo fell backwards to avoid the skewering. Tom griped, "What would you have us do then? Let them all go? This little shit is taking us for fools."

"The dawn will take you all," a magnificent voice rang out, praise _Eru_. Gandalf appeared on a ridge overlooking the camp and brought his staff down on a boulder with a thunderous crack. The boulder shattered, revealing the first rays of the sunrise. The trolls screamed in terror and pain, as their flesh slowly petrified. In a matter of seconds the trolls twisted and curled into fetal positions, stilling for an eternity as statutes to the grotesque and abominable.

We were saved.


End file.
